Shamballa  Part 4  Full Circle
by Beregond5
Summary: They say there's a purpose and a reason behind everything. Beregond and the Elric Brothers are about to discover that in this final installment of the Shamballa series. Heavily based on the 2003 FMA Anime.
1. Chapter 1

Scieszka blinked once, then blinked again so as to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. And yet there was no denying it. The conductor had declared the name of the place only too clearly. Not to mention that Winry said only minutes ago that they were "finally home".

"So… this is Resembool?" the bespectacled girl asked. Her gaze drifted to every direction, where she could only see fields upon fields stretching for miles. "It's really… open."

Winry let out a small huff of indignation. "Well, excuse me for living all my life in the countryside," she said. She straightened her pack behind her back, then grabbed Scieszka by the arm. "Come on, my house is over this…"

The teenage girl stopped mid-sentence, because it was then that she saw something she didn't like at all. She quickly turned her gaze the other way, practically hiding behind Scieszka.

"What's the matter?" Scieszka asked, not really understanding what the problem was.

"Look to your right. Subtly," was all Winry said, still trying to make herself as small as possible.

Scieszka complied, deciding to indulge her friend. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary, however; just a tall man with glasses, possibly in his mid-forties. He had long, blond hair, which he tied back to a ponytail, and a neat beard that gave the man a wizened look. Apparently, he had been doing much travelling, too, for his suitcase was battered and discoloured. And even though his clothes were old, they were ironed and in pretty good shape otherwise.

"Well, I'm looking at him," Scieszka said. "He's not that bad, but isn't he too old for you?"

"Are you crazy?" Winry exclaimed in a hiss. "I didn't show him to you for _that!_"

Scieszka frowned. "Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that he was on the same train with us," Winry explained. "And he hadn't taken his eyes off me the whole trip!"

"Oh!" Scieszka regarded the man curiously again, something that mortified Winry even further.

"I told you to be subtle!"

"It doesn't matter anyway."

"Why?"

"Because he's coming over," Scieszka said nervously. Indeed, the man noticed the two girls and he was now walking in their direction, keeping his eyes locked on Winry.

"Excuse me," he said, his tone calm and friendly. "Are you related to Sara? You seem like her."

"Uh…" Scieszka started, but Winry proved a lot faster.

"No, I'm not! Now excuse us, but we have to go! Goodbye!" And with that, she grabbed Scieszka by the arm and both girls ran off as fast as their feet could carry them. Neither of the girls bothered to look back as the man watched them go, a quite perplexed expression on his features. They simply ran until the train station was out of sight and then ducked under the cover of some bushes by the edge of the road.

Scieszka was the first of the two to finally speak, still panting hard after that sprint.

"You don't think… the Führer sent him to spy on us, do you?" she asked. "Mr. Hughes said that no one knows what we've been up to."

"That doesn't mean we should have stuck around to find out," Winry answered, wiping a film of sweat off her brow. She paused at that moment, her eyes reflecting her puzzlement. "Wait a minute…"

"What?" Scieszka said.

"He asked if I was related to Sara. At first, I thought he meant Mrs Abbot, but… Sara was also my mother's name."

Scieszka blinked. "That's weird. You said you don't know him."

"I don't," Winry insisted. She heaved a sigh of defeat. "I guess I'll have to ask my grandmother about it when we go home."

"And if she doesn't know him?" Scieszka asked, unable to hide the worry from her voice.

Winry swallowed hard. "Then we're in trouble."

* * *

Except for that scare at the train station, Winry and Scieszka's trip to Pinako's house was uneventful. They didn't see any sign of the strange man, and Pinako was certainly glad to see her granddaughter after so long. She invited the girls in, shook hands with Scieszka – quite forcefully, too – and started preparing tea. As she reasoned, the girls needed it after such a long journey.

So, five minutes later, Winry, Scieszka and Pinako were sitting around the small coffee table, drinking the hot liquid in companionable silence. Even so, Winry knew that it wouldn't be long before her grandmother would ask about her journey. And when that happened, the young girl wouldn't be able to lie.

Sure enough, Pinako placed her cup on the small plate and regarded Winry with a small smile.

"Well, Winry? How was your trip? Did you have a good time?"

Winry fidgeted slightly. "Rush Valley was okay. Al got me a screwdriver with a wooden handle, like the one I broke."

"That was nice of him," Pinako said, her smile broadening. "Did you stay long there?"

"No, not really," Winry admitted. "We only stayed there for a day, because we had to go to Dublith. And then we had to return to Central to take care of some business there."

Pinako took a puff from her pipe, her expression becoming thoughtful. "I see. And what exactly happened in Central that has you on the run?"

Winry winced. "What gave me away?"

"You? Nothing," Pinako said. She took the pipe out of her mouth and pointed at Scieszka with one end. "But your friend's been acting as though she expects someone to lunge at her."

Scieszka straightened her glasses, chuckling in an embarrassed manner. But Pinako was far from over as she faced Winry again.

"Now… How about you tell the story from the beginning, young lady?"

Winry sighed. Whenever Pinako used that tone, there was no point in denying anything. That was why she put the cup of tea down and looked at Pinako, quite serious.

"There's trouble in the military and Scieszka has proof of it. Mr. Hughes – the Lieutenant Colonel I've told you about – said we should go somewhere safe before any of the Führer's men spot us. This is the safe place."

Pinako nodded her understanding. "And the boys? Where are they now?"

"They… were sent at the front lines in Liore," Winry replied softly. "That's the last thing I've heard of them."

The old woman took another puff of her pipe and crossed her arms. "Are they on their own?"

"No. Beregond is with them," Winry said.

"Beregond?" Pinako's brows furrowed as she tried to recall the name. "Oh, yes. That sergeant," she finally declared, her eyes brightening. "Ed and Al trust him, don't they?"

"I trust him too," Winry said, nodding emphatically. "He's a good man, Granny."

Pinako smiled once again and stood up. "That's enough reassurance for me," she declared and turned to Scieszka. "Well, dear, I have a spare bed that you can use. "It's old, but-"

She never completed her sentence. Den, who was sitting by his mistress' feet throughout the conversation, suddenly sat up in alarm and started barking furiously at the door.

Pinako and the girls exchanged a look. Something wasn't right; they could feel it. Even so, Pinako decided to take their chances and opened the door.

Den growled, baring his fangs menacingly. On the other hand, the girls gasped when they saw that the same man who tried to talk to them at the station was now standing on the doorstep, looking utterly confused and lost.

"Pinako, I can't find my house."

Pinako stepped back, looking at the man with eyes wide-open.

"Hohenheim… you're back!"

Winry pricked up her ears at those words.

"Granny? Do you know him?"

Pinako stared back at her granddaughter in disbelief, but then shook her head. "Of course… you were too young to remember him." She motioned her hand towards the bespectacled man, introducing him properly this time.

"Winry, meet Hohenheim… Ed and Al's father."

* * *

The sun burned brightly over the desert that stretched for miles west of Liore. Scorching heat filled the atmosphere, and there was hardly anything stirring. Anything, that is, except for a young sixteen-year-old alchemist and a suit of armour that called the teen 'brother'.

"Damn it, Al! Do you have to be so tireless?" Ed exclaimed. Though he was running as fast as his feet could carry him, he was panting hard and within good reason. His mithril arm and leg were light, but they were still metallic, and the sun practically set them ablaze.

"Sorry! You know I can't get tired in this body!" Al said, slowing his pace. He was a good couple of feet ahead of Ed, running with a speed that belied his armoured appearance. He looked at his brother curiously, noticing the strained expression. "Do you want us to take a break?"

"No," Ed said, still running. "We can't afford to stop now." His amber-coloured eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched tightly. "We have to get to Resembool… so we can correct our mistake."

Al nodded his understanding, and he continued running, this time next to Ed. Still, there was something that troubled him and he needed an answer.

"Brother… I know that you said he would, but… do you really think Beregond will follow us?"

Ed let out a deep breath. "Yeah, I do."

Al, however, noticed the uncertainty in Ed's voice.

"What's wrong?"

Ed's features scrunched to a deep frown

"I just… want to believe that he'll follow us alone."

* * *

Colonel Mustang stood outside Liore, watching the soldiers at work. Most of them were busy digging, trying to free the city from the veil of sand that it was covered in, while other were tending the wounded. He shook his head.

"Is something wrong, Sir?"

Roy faced Riza. The woman was indeed next to him, and so were Beregond and Havoc. Havoc was quiet, smoking his cigarette, but the Gondorian didn't seem to pay attention to his surroundings.

"I was thinking of Fullmetal," he finally answered Riza. "His actions weren't the best, but at least he saved us from much worse."

Riza nodded her understanding. "Have you heard what will happen to Lieutenant Colonel Archer?"

"The Führer doesn't like dogs that bite their masters' hand," Roy said. "Major Moser has already informed me that Lieutenant Colonel Archer will be escorted back to Central, where he will be judged for his insubordination."

"One less trouble," Riza commented softly.

"Yes."

Just then, Fuery and Breda walked up to Roy and Riza and saluted as the protocol demanded. Roy just waved his hand, giving them both permission to speak.

"We've just uncovered Kimblee's body," Fuery said. "Apparently, he was killed by Scar; he was blown from the inside."

"It also seems the civilians left the city before the sandstorm incident. We've found an underground passage, and we're now following it," Breda completed.

"This means they never planned on resisting," Riza mused. She turned to Beregond, who had pricked up his ears to listen to Fuery and Breda's report. "You were right."

Beregond just sighed and remained silent.

"Colonel."

Everyone turned when they heard Falman so close to them, but he simply stood in attention and saluted.

"The Führer wants to speak with you."

Everyone exchanged a look. But, as the gang knew that they couldn't deny the most powerful man in Amestris, they all followed Roy to a large tent, under which Bradley stood and supervised the excavating operation with Major Armstrong standing guard beside him. Roy stood in front of the Führer, while the rest of the team waited a little farther away.

Roy stood in attention and saluted Bradley properly. "Sir."

"At ease," Bradley answered, a tight smile tugged on his lips. "I hear you've managed to retrieve Sergeant Beregond safely."

_Such concern,_ Roy thought dryly. Nevertheless, he nodded and replied: "Yes, Sir. He used his alchemy to take cover when the sandstorm broke out."

"Ah, yes… the sandstorm," Bradley said, as though it was a minor detail that he had missed. His look became sterner as he stared at Roy, almost piercing the younger man. "It's strange how that sandstorm appeared out of nowhere and without such thing as a warning."

Roy didn't plan on admitting anything. He kept silent.

"On top of that, the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother are gone missing almost immediately afterwards," Bradley continued on. "That's a strange coincidence, don't you think, Colonel Mustang?"

Roy's expression remained neutral. "After all these years under your service, I've come to know there are no such things as coincidences."

Armstrong frowned, albeit subtly. He was clearly concerned about Roy's boldness.

"I see we agree," Bradley said, certainly not seeing through Roy's double entendre. "That is why I want you to find the boys and bring them to Central, where they will answer for their actions."

Roy suspected what was the real reason Bradley wanted the boys in Central, of course. So, he tried to gain time.

"They could be anywhere by now, Sir."

Bradley smiled, sending a chill to Roy's heart. "I do believe Sergeant Beregond knows. He seems quite… attached to them."

_Damn it…_ "Then I'll ask him, Sir."

"Very well," Bradley said. "Major Armstrong is to accompany you with some of my best men. Fullmetal is a powerful alchemist after all, and potentially dangerous. I'll leave with my personal escort for Central at once, so I expect to have some results soon, Colonel."

"Understood, Sir," Roy said with a nod.

"Good. That will be all then. Dismissed, Flame Alchemist," Bradley said, and he resumed watching the soldiers at work.

Roy didn't need to be told twice. Motioning to Armstrong to follow him, he went back to his subordinates and, once they made sure they wouldn't be listened in on, he told them of Bradley's orders.

Havoc let out a puff of smoke in dismay. "Well, that's bad news for Ed and Al."

"And yet if we don't find them, Bradley will know that we can't be trusted," Armstrong said. "We're already playing a dangerous game as it is."

Roy didn't speak, not at once anyway. He merely turned to Beregond.

"Where are they going?"

Beregond bowed his head and didn't reply.

No one else except Roy expected that sort of reaction. So, as everyone stared at their friend with an identical look of disbelief, Roy tentatively placed a hand on the Gondorian's shoulder.

"Don't make me turn this into an order," he said quietly.

"Don't make me hand them over to Bradley," Beregond retorted, his tone just as quiet and even hurt.

Roy sighed. "If I don't go after them, someone else will. And then I won't be able to help them."

Beregond's hands clenched into fists, yet Roy persisted.

"You said it yourself, Beregond. We have to find them. We might as well do it under these circumstances."

A moment passed, then two… until, finally, Beregond answered.

"I understand," he said. However, it was obvious that he felt like he was somehow betraying the boys.

"Thank you," Roy said. "Now tell me where they are going."

Beregond answered. "Resembool. But not by the main road."

* * *

The sun started setting, bathing everything in rich colours of gold, orange and crimson. Life in Resembool was becoming quiet as most of the inhabitants retired to their homes. Even so, the man that was sitting next to a grave of a woman named Trisha Elric didn't budge. He kept his head bowed, lost in thought.

"You spent the whole day here?"

Hohenheim looked up and saw that it was the young girl, Winry. She was standing in front of him with a curious look in her cobalt-blue eyes, while Den was next to her, regarding the man warily, ready to lunge at him if he dared make the wrong move.

"I'm sorry. My sense of time is a bit off," he answered. He lifted his hand to straighten his glasses, but he only earned a growl, courtesy of Den.

Winry shook her head at that. "He really doesn't like you."

"Most animals don't," Hohenheim said. He sighed and looked at Winry. "Has it been long since Trisha passed away?"

Winry nodded. "Six years."

Hohenheim bowed his head again. "I see. The boys must have been so sad…" He paused, because it was then that he noticed the bouquet of flowers in Winry's hands. "Oh… you came to see your parents."

"Yeah," Winry said, fingers tracing absentmindedly the colourful petals. "I try to come here whenever I can."

"May I ask what happened?"

"They were murdered during the war in Ishbal," the girl answered with a sigh. "An alchemist shot them."

Hohenheim rubbed the bridge of his nose in a tired manner. "It's sad. Your parents were good people… and good doctors. Even if they couldn't cure someone, they always knew how to comfort them."

Winry's expression reflected her regret. "That sounds like them."

They didn't say anything else, nor did they have to. And, as far as Pinako was concerned, she had overheard enough. Still, she couldn't help but momentarily direct her gaze to two graves. The one that belonged to Trisha… and the one next to it.

The one where the name "William Brice" was engraved in crystal clear writing.

* * *

The train whistled, signalling its departure, and Bradley stepped inside with the proud air of the leader of Amestris, escorted by his personal bodyguards. But, as soon as they were all in the compartment, he dismissed them with a single wave of his hand. The business that homunculus wished to attend to didn't require any human witnesses, after all.

And so, no one saw the Führer walk to one of the last compartments of the train, or exchange glances with a round-shaped human being that was wringing his hands nervously. No one saw Envy's violet eyes regarding Bradley in a relaxed manner, a baby cradled in his arms. No one noticed Dante's calculating expression. And none of them paid heed to Lust's bound form up against the steel wall as the train headed back to Central.

After the way things turned out, they had to reconsider their plans.

TBC…


	2. Stray Dog

_Two Days Later_

Hohenheim was the first to leave the house, setting out practically at the crack of dawn. And, as Pinako reasoned, Winry could always help in the shop, whether she was hiding from the Führer's men or not. So, Scieszka found herself alone early in the morning, feeling rather uncomfortable in the silence that surrounded her. It was rather ironic, considering how often she complained to Mrs Abbot and Hughes about the noise the cars made in Central.

That didn't mean she remained idle though. Still remembering Edward's request, she was currently writing in a notebook everything she had read in that old book Major Armstrong kept in his library.

Scieszka had to admit that the particular book was very interesting. She could still recall the feeling of the leather cover underneath her fingertips, as well as the harsh surface of the yellow pages. And, of course, she remembered every single word that was written in it, even though she didn't really understand what it was about. At first glance, it seemed like a book about a knight who was in search of a golden man, and he had to pass through a dragon to get there. But the wording was strange, making the story almost allegorical. What each word symbolised, Scieszka had no idea; nevertheless she knew that Ed wouldn't have asked her to make a copy of that book if he didn't think it was important.

_And how does the Nature learn to give and to receive? The copper man gives and the water-stone receives; the thunder gives the fire that flashed from it. For all things are woven together and all things are taken apart and all things are mingled and all things combined and all things mixed and all things separated and all things are moistened and all things are dried and all things bud and all things blossom in the altar shaped like a bowl. For each, by method and by weight of the four elements, the interlacing and separation of the whole is accomplished for no bond can be made without method. The method is natural, breathing in and breathing out, keeping the orders of the method, increasing and decreasing. And all things by division and union come together in a harmony, the method not being neglected, the Nature is transformed. For the Nature, turning on itself, is changed. And the Nature is both the nature of the virtue and the bond of the world. _

She was about to write down the rest of the sentence, when there was a knock on the door. Scieszka frowned, because Winry had already told her that she and Pinako would be back at noon. Moreover, Scieszka was sure that it couldn't be Hohenheim at the door. Pinako had given him an extra key to the house.

There was second knock on the door, something that made Scieszka quite nervous. Still, deciding that she should at least see who it was, she walked up to the window and looked outside. The bespectacled girl almost gasped to see two very familiar faces, and she quickly rushed to open the door.

"Lieutenant Ross?" Sergeant Bloch? What are you two doing here?"

The two soldiers greeted Scieszka, a very serious expression on their features.

"We have news. Where is Winry?"

* * *

Winry came back home at noon, just as she had said she would, and she wasn't alone. Pinako and Hohenheim were quite wary when they saw the two soldiers in the house, but the girls finally convinced them that Ross and Bloch were friends.

Unfortunately, the news they had weren't good at all.

"The order was issued two days ago," Ross said, taking another sip of the tea that Pinako had prepared in the meantime. "The official excuse is that Ed and Al have to report about the circumstances under which Scar and Kimblee were killed, as well as of the sinking of Liore."

Hohenheim raised an eyebrow at that, but he said nothing. Winry, on the other hand, was furious. Everyone could tell by the way she was currently gripping her cup, as though ready to break it.

"And who's in charge of the investigation?" Pinako asked, looking closely at the two soldiers.

"General Hakuro," Bloch said. "That was when Maes decided we should come here and warn the boys."

"You think they're really coming here?" Scieszka asked, straightening her glasses.

"It's still their home, even if their house has been burned down," Ross pointed out. "Besides, the fact that the local police have been notified to stay alert shows that the military expects them to come here."

"Yes, that sounds like proof enough," Hohenheim mused aloud. "But I don't think they're foolish enough to enter Resembool from the front door, sort of speak."

"What do you mean, Mr. Elric?" Ross asked, not really understanding.

Hohenheim stood up and walked up to the window, looking outside. "There was no railroad to the East until recently, not even a road. That was why the people used to cross over that mountain and through that valley you can see."

Winry looked in the direction Hohenheim was now pointing. "I know that place; we used to play there a lot as children." A frown crossed her features. "Are you saying that they're coming that way?"

Hohenheim nodded, something that made Winry stand up at once.

"Then we'll go find them!"

"We?" Scieszka exclaimed in disbelief. She didn't have time to say much else, because Winry had already pulled her on her feet and dragged her toward the door.

"If we see any investigators snooping around, we'll try to stall them," Ross said.

"Thanks!" was all that Winry said before the door closed shut behind her.

Pinako sighed and shook her head when the girls were out of sight.

"That girl is becoming too much like her mother," she murmured under her breath, and she reached for the tray with the tea. "Well, tea-time is over," she declared to Bloch and Ross. "Care to help me do the washing-up?"

"Washing-up?" Bloch echoed. "We-"

A subtle - but forceful – nudge silenced him.

"We'd love to, Dr. Rockbell," Ross said, and prodded Bloch toward the kitchen.

Bloch's eyes opened wide at that, nevertheless he only addressed Ross once they were out of hearing range.

"What's this about?" he hissed. "We're on a mission!"

"That's why I wanted to talk to you without being listened in on!" Ross hissed back, positively glaring at the sergeant. "You actually didn't notice, did you?"

Bloch blinked in confusion. "Notice what?"

"He said there hasn't been a railroad here until _recently,_" Ross answered.

Bloch cocked his head, regarding the woman curiously. "And?"

"Do _you _consider a hundred years ago _recently?_" Ross said, huffing in frustration.

Only then did it finally dawn on the sergeant. He scratched his head in thought. "Okay… that _is _strange, but… what do you suggest? He's Ed and Al's dad!"

"I never said otherwise," Ross replied. "I'm just saying that we should stick close to him."

_That _made Bloch narrow his eyes and look at Ross quite suspiciously.

"What do you mean by 'close'?"

Ross shrugged. "Close."

And with that she walked out, leaving a positively fuming Bloch behind.

* * *

The loud chirping of birds and the sound of leaves swaying gently in the wind was interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps and clanking of metal. Soon enough, the source of the footsteps appeared as well, the suit of armour on the lead and the teen alchemist following, both running as fast as they could in the hopes of reaching Resembool before the military caught them… or worse.

It still was a gruelling pace that Edward couldn't keep up anymore. His limps were aching, his body trembled and he couldn't breathe fast enough anymore; his lungs burnt in demand of air. He gritted his teeth and will himself to go on, but it was getting hopeless. In the end, he just had to stop.

Al halted at once when he realised Ed wasn't following him anymore.

"Brother, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I just…" Ed panted, resting his hands on his knees. "I just need some water."

Al understood and he walked to the river nearby and used his helmet as a cup to get some of the clear liquid to his brother. Ed accepted his brother's offer eagerly, and he sat on a rock to start drinking in big sips.

"We're getting close now," Al commented as he looked at their surroundings. "With any luck, we'll be able to reach Resembool by the afternoon."

"I don't know, Al," Ed replied, using the rest of the water to wash his face. "We've still got to be careful in case we get into trouble."

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

Ed opened his mouth to answer, but his ears picked up something strange. There weren't any birds singing anymore, and the forest was eerily quiet. That, of course, meant one thing only.

Someone was coming.

"_That _kind of trouble!" Ed declared. Tucking the helmet under his arm, he grabbed Al and dragged him behind some bushes. Al tried to protest and stand up, demanding to know what was the matter, but Ed pushed him back down and shushed him to silence.

Not a moment too soon. Just then, both boys saw the familiar forms of Breda and Falman appearing from another thicket. The soldiers seemed tired and haggard-looking, yet determined to find something.

Ed didn't have to guess what that something was. Still, he made no motion to come out of his hiding out. He wanted to listen to them first.

"We've been searching for hours!" Falman said at that moment, facing Breda exasperatedly. "Shouldn't we have found them by now?"

Breda shrugged and took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face. "If he said they're here, they have to be. He knows them like the back of his hand."

Ed bit back a snort. Did Mustang actually believe that kind of thing? Granted, he obviously figured that he and Al were heading toward Resembool, but there was nothing challenging about that.

The problem was… how did he know that they would use that route unless…?

His train of thought got cut off at the sound of gun aimed in his direction.

"Turn around slowly, boys. Trust me, it's for your own good."

Ed winced and chided himself for his stupidity. He had forgotten that Mustang's unit always moved as one. Sensing Al already complying with the suggestion, Ed decided to play along for now and he put up his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. He faced Havoc and Fuery as well, only to see that both soldiers regarded them closely, almost warily, for a few moments. Finally, Havoc smiled a bit and lowered his gun, while Fuery signalled to Breda and Falman that they found the boys.

"Heh… I won't doubt Beregond's tracking abilities again," Havoc said cheerily. "I swear, I don't think even Hayate is that good."

Ed's eyes widened at that, scarcely believing what he was hearing. Beregond _led_ Mustang's men after them? Why? Yes, he wasn't sure that Beregond would leave the military. But he certainly never expected that the Gondorian would actually _work _with Mustang in order to get him and Al captured!

Ed clenched his hands into fists. Feelings of betrayal and anger overwhelmed him, and he couldn't help but consider Beregond no different from the others; all dogs of the military, following orders and nothing else.

"So… shall we go?" Havoc asked in a friendly manner, beckoning the boys to follow him.

That, Ed decided, was enough. "No."

Havoc and Fuery blinked, not expecting that answer. Al stared at Ed incredulously. "Ed, what are you doing?"

"We're not going back, Al! We're through with the military, remember?"

Havoc instantly held up his gun. "Don't be an idiot, Ed! We just want to take you to Mustang so that he…!"

"Stop patronising me!" Ed cried, and he grabbed the gun from the barrel.

"ED, DON'T!" Breda shouted.

The sound of gunshot filled the air, scaring the birds away from the trees. Ed flinched and closed his eyes, expecting the pain of his hand getting blown away to wash through him at any moment.

Though there was a scream, Ed was shocked to realise that it wasn't his. He opened his eyes at once, stunned to see Havoc on his knees, cradling his hand close to his chest. Fuery, on the other hand, was using his own hands to stop the bleeding on his temple, his glasses dropped on the ground and broken.

_How?_

Only when he looked down did he understand what happened. He had grabbed the gun with his automail hand, and when the gun went off, the mithril plating blocked the bullet's exit, making the weapon explode. Now there was a nasty gash on Havoc's palm, and one of the shards had grazed Fuery's temple, destroying his glasses in the process.

"Damn it, Edward!"

It was Breda who cried that out, and the second lieutenant hurried at Havoc's side to examine the wound. As for Falman, he quickly picked up Fuery's glasses, hoping that the damage wasn't too bad and that he could fix them.

Ed could only stare at the scene in numbing confusion, unable to believe what was happening.

"I… I didn't mean it…" he stuttered. And it was true, he didn't. All his life he had spent it in the hopes that he wouldn't have to kill anyone in his quest, only to now realise that he had almost killed two people that he had, more or less, considered friends. And, even if Mustang _was_ willing to help him before, there was no way he was going to now – not after what he did to two of his men.

So, Ed did the only thing that made sense in his mind at that moment. He grabbed Alphonse by the arm and started running, ignoring Breda and Falman's shouts.

* * *

"Ouch! Are you sure you know where you are going?" Scieszka asked, trying to straighten her glasses after hitting her head on another twig.

"Yes! Now come on, they should be around here somewhere!" Winry said, her eyes open for any sign of Ed and Al.

"We've already been searching for hours!" the bespectacled girl pointed out. "Maybe we should stay put in one spot and wait for them to appear."

"No, we have to find them as soon as possible," Winry replied. "Just waiting won't solve anything."

"But-"

Scieszka never got the chance to finish her sentence, because it was then that Winry stopped in her tracks and shushed her. Scieszka wasn't sure what to make of that kind of behaviour, and she even opened her mouth to ask what was going on; but then, she heard it too.

Voices. And they certainly didn't belong to Ed and Al.

Both girls exchanged a glance. Deciding that they should investigate matters further, they walked on as quietly as possible to the direction of the voices. They used the thickets of the forest as cover, and they tries to stay upwind in case any kind of animals spotted them.

It was a precaution that proved useful, for a short bark told the girls that there was at least one dog close. And, when Winry and Scieszka got close enough, they recognised which dog was it – as well as the owner.

"What is she doing here?" Winry mused, keeping her eyes locked on Riza. The woman was busy giving Hayate some food.

"I don't know, but she isn't alone," Scieszka whispered. "Look."

Sure enough, Roy and the rest of the unit was just a couple of feet away from Riza. The colonel was conversing with Breda and Falman, and they seemed way too serious; it was obvious that there was something very wrong. Beregond, on the other hand, was kneeling next to an irritated Havoc, tending to some kind of injury the second lieutenant had in his hand. Fury was resting his back against the same tree where Havoc was, a mournful look on his face as he held his broken glasses. Beregond must have noticed it, because he subtly waved his hand. In a matter of moments, Fuery was surprised to see that his glasses were as good as new. He faced the Gondorian and nodded his thanks.

Havoc, however…

"Ow!" he cried, and he looked at Beregond almost exasperatedly. "Can't you be a little more gentle?"

"I'm not Sarah, Havoc," Beregond answered in a tired manner. "Now hold still. I'm almost done." He started wrapping the injured hand in bandages, something that made Havoc hiss.

"It stings," he pointed out.

"I know, it's supposed to," Beregond retorted. "Keep it there, and I'll change your bandages later on."

"Joy," Havoc deadpanned.

Beregond didn't say anything this time, but the look he gave Havoc was enough as an answer. Feeling self-conscious, Havoc sighed and run his other hand over his hair in frustration.

"I'm sorry. I know you're only trying to help."

"If only others could see it that way," Beregond murmured, and he finally stood up to report to Roy.

"Well?" Roy asked, regarding Beregond curiously.

"They'll be fine," the Gondorian replied. "You can talk to them, if you want."

Roy nodded his understanding and walked up to Havoc. The second lieutenant was about to light a cigarette but, when he saw the colonel approaching him, he chuckled in a sheepish manner.

Roy raised an eyebrow, apparently not sharing the humour. "You're an injured man, Lieutenant. Is it wise to smoke?"

Havoc couldn't help but play with his lighter nervously. "Well, uh… you see, Boss…"

"Didn't think so," Roy declared and pried the lighter away from Havoc's hands. "You can have it back when your hand is fully healed."

"Yes, Sir," the second lieutenant replied with a sigh, and threw the cigarette away in resignation.

Finally deciding that they heard enough, Scieszka tapped Winry on the shoulder. "We should go," she whispered nervously.

"Not yet," Winry replied. "I need to know if they're looking for Ed and Al."

"We are, Miss Rockbell," a familiar booming voice said. "And I'm sorry to say it, but we can't have you interfering with our investigation."

Both girls winced and turned around, only to see that Major Armstrong was indeed behind them, his eyes reflecting the seriousness of the situation.

* * *

Everything happened too fast for Winry. In the one moment, she was staring with an embarrassed smile at Major Armstrong, only to find herself walking next to Scieszka with her hands tied up in the next. She looked at each and every soldier that walked ahead, but no one seemed to pay attention to her. Not even Riza, who was holding the rope that tugged both girls onward in spite of their struggling. As for Beregond, he had already gone ahead of the unit, trying to discover any traces of the boys.

To say Winry was revolted would have been an understatement.

"Why are you doing this?" she said angrily. "You know the Führer is the real traitor, and you still follow his orders?"

"We are still his soldiers," Riza pointed out, keeping her gaze forward.

"So that's it? You just do what you're told, no questions asked?" Winry cried, but she received no answer. Just fury overwhelming her, she turned to Major Armstrong and Roy, who were walking in silence and lost in thought. "Is that what happened to my parents?"

Again, she didn't get an answer.

It was then that she noticed it. Beregond was standing a little farther ahead with Faenel at his side, looking with interest at some strange bolts of blue light brightening the sky. Roy raised his hands in a sign that everyone should stop, then he walked up to the Gondorian.

"Are they who I think they are?" he asked softly.

Beregond settled with a nod as an answer.

* * *

Ed decided that things couldn't get any worse. He and Al tried to walk on, using every trick in the book to make themselves as less conspicuous as possible; but it seemed luck wasn't on their side anymore. Now he had to use every alchemy trick up his sleeve to keep the soldiers surrounding him at bay. He created walls to slow them down; water dragons to scare them off, even fake images of himself and Al to confuse them. Yet for every soldier that was dodged or knocked out, there be at least two more to take his place.

"Edward and Alphonse Elric!" a young sergeant-major cried through a speaker. "Please surrender yourselves in peaceful and orderly fashion. We don't wish you any harm!"

"Like hell you don't!" Ed muttered under his breath, and he clapped once more. Spikes rose from the ground, and the soldiers had to step back before they got themselves hurt.

"Brother, maybe we should just do what they say," Al said, resting his hand on Ed's shoulder in a tentative manner. "There's no place left for us to go."

Ed pulled himself away from that touch and stared at Al angrily. "No! We're not gonna let them win this! You of all people should know that!"

"You should listen to your brother, Fullmetal. Unlike you, he knows how to choose his battles."

Ed felt his eyes widening, for he recognised that voice only too well. Wrath burning anew in his heart, he looked in the direction of Mustang. The bastard was indeed in the battle scene, the gloves on his hands and a smug smile on his features.

It was time to rub off that smile once and for all.

"You should practise what you preach, Colonel," Ed declared. "Or do you think I've forgotten about your weakness?" In a flash and before Al could stop him, the teen alchemist clapped his hands and placed them on the river next to him. The blinding blue light of alchemical reaction filled the area once more, and a great water fountain sprayed everyone and everything that was within its range – including Roy and his gloves.

"Let's see you ignite anything now!" Ed shouted.

Roy, however, was hardly fazed. "If there's anyone here who hasn't learned from their mistakes, it's you, Fullmetal."

Ed didn't know what to make of that statement. That is, until he got his answer in the form of rocky missiles launched at him, courtesy of Major Armstrong. Gasping in surprise, he got ready to grab Al by the gauntlet so that they would run away.

"Brother!" Al cried.

Al's warning came not a moment too soon. Ed ducked just as the rocky missiles started exploding one after the other. Hot pebbles landed on his back, but, fortunately, they didn't hurt him.

It was then that the thought occurred to him. If the missiles were hot, then that could only mean… He stared at Mustang, scarcely believing that the man managed to heat up anything in the state his gloves were.

Seeing through Ed's thoughts, Mustang smirked and held up a lighter – Havoc's lighter.

"There are more than one ways to create a spark and heat the air inside Armstrong's rocks," he said. "Now, are you willing to follow us quietly, or do you want us to start Round Two?"

"You're actually giving me an option?" Ed snapped bitterly. "How come you didn't give any to the Rockbells?"

At the next moment, Ed regretted his slip of the tongue. Not because it actually made Roy flinch in surprise, and everyone else gasp in shock. Not because Alphonse cried out to Ed, trying in vain to stop him from saying anything. No. He regretted it because he noticed Winry among the soldiers. And the girl was trembling all over as she grabbed Riza's gun from the lieutenant's holster and aimed it directly at Mustang.

_TBC..._


	3. Confrontation

Nobody spoke or moved. They didn't so much as breathe as everyone kept staring at the trembling girl, waiting to see what she would do. Everyone, that is, except for Roy Mustang. He still had his back turned to Winry, even though he was by now aware that she aimed at him with Riza's gun.

"Is what Ed said true?"

Her voice was faltering, interlaced with sobs that she desperately tried to control. Roy, however, remained silent, as though he didn't acknowledge her.

"Is it true?" Winry insisted, almost screaming her question.

Ed bit his lower lip. "Winry…"

"No, Ed!" the girl cried. "I want an answer – _his _answer!"

The teen alchemist didn't dare say anything else. He stepped back, and silence reigned once more. The minutes ticked by slowly, and it seemed that Roy would answer this time either. But then his voice flowed out of his lips, tired and sad.

"I once executed two people. Two doctors," he said. "'There are no sides; just patients.' That's what they said as they treated our fallen enemies in Ishbal. But the people they were healing would rise up again to fight us. The military asked them to stop, but they wouldn't. And their makeshift hospital was becoming a den of insurgents. I got my orders in the morning… and I shot them that night." His voice softened, yet his pain and regret was still audible, sending a chill to everyone's heart. "After that, I tried to kill myself, but I was too much of a coward. So I took an oath instead: to never follow unreasonable commands again, to reach a position where I wouldn't _have _to follow them; and I've stayed true to that. I'm not chasing them because I was commanded to. I'm doing it because, if _I_ don't catch them, the Führer's men will." He turned around and locked his eyes on Winry's tearful ones. "I won't blame you if you pull the trigger now. But I ask you that you don't. For their sake."

Winry's fingers fidgeted violently, ready to pull the trigger. But they never did. Beregond approached her and gripped her hands in a gentle manner, his voice soothing as he spoke to her.

"_Leithio han, Winry._"

That was all the girl could take. In the next moment, she dropped on her knees, her hands abandoning the gun and dropping loosely at her sides in defeat. Sobs racked through her body, and Riza had to hold her close, trying somehow to comfort her; in the end, however, the woman had to guide Winry away from the scene. Beregond, on the other hand, simply handed the gun to Breda and walked up to Roy, expecting his orders.

"Just go to them, Sergeant," Roy said softly, patting the man on the shoulder wearily. "I've kept my part of the bargain."

Beregond nodded his understanding. Heaving a sigh, he approached the boys and smiled at them a bit.

"Hey," he said. "We meet again."

"Yeah," Ed replied, but his tone was neutral.

If Beregond nodded that kind of hostility, he certainly didn't show it. "Let's go then," he said, and he beckoned the boys to follow him.

Al complied at once, actually glad to see the Gondorian again; but Ed merely dragged his legs forward, a deep scowl on his features.

"So what's going to happen now?" Al asked, wringing his hands nervously. "We were hoping that we would reach Resembool so that-"

"I know," Beregond answered, patting the metal gauntlet in reassurance. "But nothing's lost yet. The Colonel will see to it."

Ed clenched his hands into fists at once at those words. "Really?" he asked, his tone icy-cold. "You just had enough of the children and you decided you should take advice from the adults?"

If Al were able to, he would have winced quite visibly. "Brother, you know he didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine," Beregond said, effectively silencing the suit of armour before turning to the teen alchemist. "I'm on your side, Edward. I've always been. It's to your current actions that I'm against."

"Cut the crap!" Ed exclaimed angrily. "You probably figured you didn't need a silly kid to tell you what to do anymore!"

"Ed!"

Al was too late. Beregond instantly froze in his tracks and stared at Ed agape, eyes widened tenfold in disbelief and shock.

"Is that what you think of me?"

Ed didn't answer, nor did he have to. The defiant look reflected in his eyes said everything.

"I see," the Gondorian breathed out.

With that, he walked away, hardly paying heed to the looks of disbelief that he earned from every soldier he passed by. Fuery reached out in the wild hope that he would stop the Gondorian from leaving, but Beregond simply continued walking until he was out of sight.

That, Ed supposed, would have been the end of that. However, Roy huffed and faced him with quite the angry glare.

"You can say anything about me if that will make you feel better, Fullmetal," he said. "But Beregond-"

Roy never managed to finish his sentence, because Havoc suddenly lunged at Ed and punched him straight on the jaw. Such was his force, in fact, that the teen alchemist fell on the ground with a loud thud.

"YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!"

"Havoc!" Roy exclaimed.

"Brother!" Al instantly hurried at Ed's side and helped him into a sitting position. "You okay?"

Ed nodded with a grunt. He could taste blood in his tongue, and he had to shake off the dizzy feeling he got with that hit. With hands tightening into fists and ready to reciprocate Havoc's gesture in kind, Ed looked angrily at the second lieutenant.

His wrath vanished when he saw Havoc's face. The easy-going, relaxed features were contorted in unadulterated rage, and the man didn't even seem to register the fact that his bandaged hand started bleeding again as he kept clenching it into a fist.

"What-?" Ed started before could help it.

Havoc proved faster.

"You think it takes courage to do what _you_ do? Running around Amestris to find a way to get your and your brother's bodies back? You try being _him!_" he shouted, pointing to the direction Beregond had left. "You try living, knowing that the game is forever lost to you! That your people are gone and you're the last remnant of your race, trapped in a life that wasn't meant to be yours in the first place! That no matter how well you master the language or how good an alchemist will become, you'll still and _always_ be nothing more than an outsider! That's the way it's for him!" He stopped to catch his breath, but he was far from done. "Did you know Beregond can _will _himself to die?"

Ed gasped, shocked. He looked at the others, scarcely believing what he heard, but everyone seemed just as aghast.

No one had known.

"That's right," Havoc said, his voice sounding hoarse after all his shouting. "He calls it a privilege of his people, so that he won't be faced with old age… or any other burdens." A chuckle flowed out of his lips, yet there was hardly any mirth in that sound. "Ironic, isn't it? The only way he _can _escape from this world and find his people is to die, and yet he doesn't do it."

Ed swallowed hard, unable to do anything else but listen to Havoc's side of the story. All this sounded too incredible; but, somehow, he knew the lieutenant was actually telling him the truth. And Ed didn't know what to say.

"But… If he…? Why…?"

Havoc cut off the teen exasperatedly. "You don't get it, do you? He stays for you."

He didn't say anything else; he simply turned on his heel and left, a look of disgust in his face. And, moments later, all the soldiers left as well, sparing only a brief look in Ed's direction; they were aware that neither of the boys would attempt to leave after what happened.

Sure enough, Al stood up, his head bowed in shame and guilt.

"You have blood on your face, Brother," he murmured in an apologetic tone. "I'd better go get some water so I can clean you."

Ed just nodded, stubbornly averting his eyes. When Al's metallic footsteps died away, however, the teen alchemist hugged his legs and curled to a ball, remorse eating away at his insides.

* * *

The silence that surrounded Riza, Winry and Scieszka was almost unbearable. Though both girls were free from their bonds now, they still remained on the same spot they had been placed, hardly moving. It was almost as if there was no more strength left in them.

That's how Roy found them when he came to check on tem. Riza immediately stood up from her makeshift seat – a rock – and saluted, but Roy merely nodded absentmindedly. He walked slowly towards Winry and Scieszka, his footsteps sounding loud in the quietness of the early afternoon air, and he gently placed a plate of food before them.

Winry looked at the food for moments that felt like centuries; then lifted her gaze to meet Roy's coal-black one. Her eyes reflected her anger, and her young features were contorted in resentment.

"So that makes it all better?" she asked, her tone bitter and icy. "I can never forgive you."

Roy didn't answer. With a mere shake of the head, he turned on his heel and walked away, sparing only a brief look in Riza's direction. Winry watched the man go without another word. Still, she couldn't get rid of the question that gnawed at her mind, making wonder.

"Why wouldn't he say anything?" she finally asked softly.

Riza sighed, a sign that she knew the answer. Winry locked her eyes on the woman, waiting to hear what the lieutenant had to say.

"Despite what you may believe, Colonel _has _a sense of honour," Riza said. "It doesn't matter to him whether you forgive him or not; he already can't forgive himself."

And with that, she fell silent once more, leaving Winry be to her contemplating… and regret.

* * *

Ed walked along a small river, keeping his head bowed and his hands in his pockets. He remembered that river quite well; he used to play near its shores with Winry and Alphonse a long time ago. This time, however, Ed was alone. Winry needed time to overcome the shock she'd been through less than an hour ago, while Al left him with a single piece of advice:

"Go to him and apologise."

Ed sighed. He knew Al was right, of course. He had let his anger overwhelm him, and now others paid the price. Still, Ed wasn't sure how he should approach Beregond and apologise to him. The Gondorian would probably be too angry with him right now, and the teen alchemist couldn't blame him if that were the case.

But, damn it, how was he supposed to know? Apparently, Beregond trusted Havoc in that matter more than he trusted Ed.

Then again, when was Ed around long enough for Beregond to confide in him? They were always on the move, each going their separate ways to fulfil their goals. Or, rather, to fulfil Ed's goal. Beregond's piece of heaven was lost, denied forever, and Ed was callous enough to forget that.

He had taken Beregond for granted; a mistake that Ed regretted whole-heartedly now.

He caught sight of Faenel, grazing on some grass, then saw the man himself. Beregond was resting his back against the trunk of a tree, gazing at the clear surface of the river. He seemed lost in thought, one hand placed on a bent leg and the other loose at his side. He certainly didn't give the impression that he noticed Ed, even though the teen alchemist was standing a couple of feet away from him.

"Beregond?"

The Gondorian pricked up his ears, a sign that he heard Ed. He did nothing else, though. He simply remained where he was, still stubbornly looking ahead.

"You won't even look at me?" Ed asked dejectedly.

This time, Beregond directed his gaze to the teen alchemist. But his expression was neutral, almost cold as he obviously expected another round of verbal whiplash. That hurt Ed more than he would ever care to admit, making him avert his gaze and clench his hands into fists. Even so, he managed to whisper that he had considered impossible to say.

"I'm sorry."

Beregond didn't stir for some time, and Ed felt the green-hazel eyes locked on him. But, finally, a sigh reached the boy's ears and the Gondorian stood up. Ed looked up, afraid that Beregond intended to walk away.

Nothing was further from the truth. Beregond smiled, albeit wanly, and he even stepped closer to pat the teen alchemist affectionately on the head.

"Funny how I didn't notice this before," he mused softly. "You reach up to my chin now."

Ed blinked and checked himself, only to realise that Beregond was right. The teen alchemist reached up to the man's chest when they first met, and now they could look at each other in the eye without Ed having to strain his neck much… not that Ed would ever admit that he was short for a second time.

"Yeah," he said with a small smile of his own, and he kicked an invisible stone. "It's kinda funny… how time passes, I mean."

"And how many surprises one can come across," Beregond replied. "If anyone told me a year ago that I would end up in another world and witness with my own eyes wonders beyond anyone's wildest dreams, I'd declare them mad."

Ed smirked. "I'd probably say the same thing if anyone told me a year ago that a man from a different time and place would actually convince me to drink milk. Even…" he sobered at that, a sigh escaping his lips, "… Even offer me his friendship when I thought it was only my brother and I against _this _world."

"Ed, you don't have to do this," Beregond said kindly.

"But I do! I-" The teen alchemist froze, registering what Beregond had just said. "You called me Ed."

Beregond feigned surprise, although his smile broadened. "Did I?"

"Yeah," Ed answered with a chuckle.

Beregond just settled with a small pat on the blond head. "Then I guess I did."

That was all the reconciliation they needed.

* * *

Just like Beregond, Roy had preferred to seclude himself from the rest of the company, wishing to be left alone with his thoughts. So, now he was sitting on a tree stump, surrounded by the evergreen tress and taking in the calmness they offered. He hoped it would somehow clear his mind after the events of the day.

His peace didn't last long, however. The sound of soft footsteps broke the silence and, moments later, Beregond appeared, a small smile on his lips.

"I figured I might find you here," the Gondorian said.

"Somehow I didn't doubt it," Roy said, a wan smirk cracking his thoughtful visage. "What have you got to report?"

"I just wanted to tell you that the Fullmetal Alchemist has finally calmed down and now he's in the company of his brother, resting," Beregond replied. "The run was more taxing than he will ever care to admit," he added in fondness.

"There's a reason the military gave him that title," Roy said. "And I take it you two made amends."

"We have," Beregond said, nodding. He regarded Roy closer, the question already visible in his eyes. "Winry?"

Roy simply shook his head. As far as he was concerned, there was no need for any other answer.

"She's in pain," Beregond commented in a soft tone. "It's only natural."

"She has every right to blame me," Roy said.

"If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else. She will understand that as time passes. And Scar has already punished the real culprit, the one who gave the order in the first place. Grand, wasn't it?"

Roy felt his eyes widening in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Hughes told me. A long time ago," Beregond said. "And he also told me why you decided to stay in the military in spite of everything."

Roy sighed. "I suppose you told the boys as well?"

"No."

That was something Roy didn't expect; it was probably obvious on his expression, too, because Beregond frowned a bit.

"It wasn't in my place to say anything, because it wasn't my secret. If you had wanted them to know, you would have told them yourself," he said.

"I see," Roy said, understanding. "I appreciate your discretion."

"Any time, Sir," Beregond said sincerely. "Although, I can't help but wonder why you decided to keep them in the dark. Taking the position of Führer in order to restore democracy…"

"…is my goal, not theirs," Roy cut in.

"Yet they're part of your unit."

"And I won't have them any more involved than that. Or you for that matter, Sergeant."

"You helped them in their quest anyway," Beregond mused aloud, clearly confused; that is, until realisation caught up with him. He stared at Roy aghast. "But you won't be helping them forever."

Roy nodded. "As long as I pretend I'm the Führer's lapdog, I can use my influence to keep them safe. But, if I face Bradley and something goes wrong…" his voice trailed off and he didn't bother to finish his sentence.

"Everyone on the know will be hunted down," Beregond completed, nodding his understanding. "And now I see why you placed me with the boys. You wanted to be sure someone would look after them in case you didn't make it."

"Do you think wrong of me?" Roy asked. Though he was smiling, he couldn't hide the weariness from his voice.

Beregond shook his head.

"So I can count on you?"

"Always," the Gondorian said, bowing courteously.

"Good," Roy said, relieved. "Thank you."

Although Beregond clearly appreciated the kind word, he was far from finished.

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't be better prepared for what is to come," he declared, and he unsheathed his sword in the blink of an eye. "Care to try your luck with someone other than Bradley first?"

Roy blinked at first, stunned. But then, as the Gondorian's offer made sense, he felt the beginning of a broad grin forming on his lips, and he pulled out his gloves to put them on.

"Be advised, Sergeant. I won't go easy on you."

Beregond smirked and place himself in a defensive position. "Neither will I."

The sun was setting when Beregond found Alphonse again. The suit of armour was sitting cross-legged inside a tent, watching over Ed and lost in thought, so the Gondorian decided not to startle him. He made a small noise as if clearing his throat and then walked inside.

"Hey," he said softly, "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Al answered, his tone just as low, "Ed is sleeping, so I don't think-"

"It's fine, let him rest," Beregond said, waving his hand dismissively, and he sat next to Al. "Did Armstrong pass by here?"

Al nodded. "He said that we don't have to worry. He ordered the Führer's soldiers to go ahead and return to Central. We belong in the Colonel's unit, so we're under his jurisdiction; their presence is no longer needed."

Beregond sighed, relieved. "Good. We need that breathing space."

"So what are we going to do now?" Al asked, his eyes locking on Beregond.

"Head for Resembool," Beregond answered, smiling a bit. "That's where you wanted to go in the first place, right?"

Al's eyes dimmed in sadness. "We have to."

"I understand." With that, Beregond turned on his heel and got ready to walk out.

"Beregond?"

The Gondorian stopped in his tracks. "Hmm?"

"Why are your clothes singed?"

The Gondorian couldn't help but chuckle.

"Long story," was all he said, patting the suit of armour on the shoulder and then heading out.

Little did he know that, several feet away, Riza was looking curiously at Roy's torn sleeves and shirt.


	4. A Face Of The Past

Though Central Station was continuously bustling with life, there was a small area where there was hardly a mouse stirring. It was the area where the conductors placed some wagons, storing them for further use on another train when the occasion called for such a necessity. Most of those wagons were empty, and no one seemed to think twice about them once they were left in the storage area. So, no one considered to look inside a wagon that was abandoned there early in the morning. Otherwise, they would have probably come across their doom upon seeing the four violet-eyed creatures inside it.

"I don't like the dark," Gluttony whined softly, beady little eyes looking at every direction. "Where's Dante?"

"Cut it out," Wrath grumbled, sitting cross-legged in one of the corners of the wagon. "She went to find new quarters, remember?"

Lust snorted, even though she was still kept crucified on the furthest wall of the wagon. "Pride seems to be the luckiest one of us. He has a home to return to and people to look after him, regarding him as one of them."

Gluttony looked in Lust's direction, chubby hands wringing nervously. "Lust…"

"Don't concern yourself with a traitor," Sloth declared, her tone cold and filled with indifference. "She disobeyed Dante's orders and jeopardised our goal."

"So _I_ am the traitor?" Lust said, her beautiful features marred with anger. "You were supposed to take care of the boys, yet you ran like a nursemaid after this infant the moment he started crying." She looked at Wrath, her eyes reflecting her contempt. "What happened, Wrath? Was a single man too much for you?"

"Shut up!" Wrath exclaimed. "You don't even know what you're talking about!"

Sloth, on the other hand, lowered her gaze. "That was different," she said.

"Different how?" Lust asked, her piercing look unrelenting. "That man was standing between you and the Fullmetal Alchemist and you just left! Didn't you want to please your master?" Her voice became acidic, its alluring quality gone as she got consumed by hatred for her fellow homunculi and their inability to think for themselves what was good for them.

"I did… But…" Sloth hesitated, and bit her lower lip in uncertainty.

"But what?" Lust all but cried in exasperation.

"He frightened me."

Lust felt her eyes widening at that. Even Gluttony seemed surprised at that declaration; for, in his eyes, Dante was the only one the homunculi were supposed to be afraid of.

"That man… I used to think he was just like any other alchemist. An obsessed scientist with dreams of creating the Philosopher's Stone. After all, why would he be with the Elric boys otherwise?" Sloth continued. "But… when I faced him in that tunnel and he locked his eyes on me, challenging me… There was something there that I hadn't seen in anyone else before, not even Dante. It was as if…" she stopped, pursing her lips for a moment as she tried to think of the right words. "It was as if his soul was on fire."

"No, not on fire," Wrath said, his voice barely audible. "His soul _is _fire; the kind of fire that can't be extinguished by the likes of us."

The eerie silence that followed surrounded the four homunculi like an ominous cloak, making them shudder.

* * *

Central wasn't always a large, advanced city, or indeed the capital of Amestris. There was a time that it used to be nothing more than a small town, occupied by peaceful folk who simply wanted to be left in peace. No, in the year 1915, there weren't all that many buildings from that quiet era. In fact, the only place where anyone could spot a glimpse of Central's former past was at the eastern parts of the city. Indeed, the particular area was riddled with old buildings and narrow stony streets, forming a sort of gigantic maze.

Still, Dante knew her way in the particular area only too well. Envy could definitely tell by the confidence with which his master moved, the baby cradled in his arms and her eyes darting in all directions as if in search of something.

"So… what are we doing here exactly?" the homunculus asked. "We've been walking for over an hour already."

"I thought the answer was obvious," Dante replied with a smile. "We can't return to Dublith after all the things that happened there; we need a new base from where we can operate undetected once more."

"And we had to come here for that kind of thing?" Envy insisted.

"This area holds many secrets that have been forgotten by most people," the deceitfully young girl said before turning around another corner. Envy followed, quite surprised to see what sort of building came into his view.

"Hey… this looks like that temple Cornello built in Liore."

Dante continued walking towards the structure. "Yes, I suppose there's some resemblance," she agreed softly. "However, this kind of temple belonged to a different religion; one that was abandoned a long time ago."

She didn't say anything else. She entered through the broken door and walked through the aisle to stand in front of a great coloured window. She handed the baby over to Envy, then connected her hands together as if in prayer, activating an alchemic circle on the window. In a matter of moments, a rumbling sound reverberated through the building, and a stony slab moved out of its place to reveal a hidden entrance on the floor. The baby squirmed at the loud noise, but he soon settled back in Dante's arms and calmed down.

"Okay, how did you know about this?" Envy asked, as he and Dante started walking down the secret flight of stairs.

"It was one of the places the heretics used to hide from the hand of the law," Dante answered.

"Heretics?" Envy echoed, not really understanding.

"Of course… You weren't born then," Dante mused. The baby made a couple of gurgling sounds in an agitated manner, but the woman placed a pacifier in his mouth. "Almost five hundred years ago, there was an argument among the alchemists, practically separating them into two opposing parties. There were those who believed that true alchemic power derived from the bowels of the earth alone, and there were those alchemists who believed that fire, as alchemy was called back then, was also a name of the soul, implying in this way that true alchemic power came from an alchemist's soul as well. Theoretically speaking, if someone could apply such power from both the earth and their soul, they could transform the natural world around them and shape it as they saw fit."

"So they died because of their beliefs," Envy concluded, smirking in grim satisfaction.

Dante nodded. "And all this because they argued what was the right path to the universal truth and godhood."

"When there's no such thing as god," the homunculus declared with snort.

She smiled cruelly. "Precisely."

It was then that they reached to another door, heavily bolted. Even so, it was no match for Envy, who simply kicked the door open while Dante connected her hands again to light the candles. Light bathed the great hall that was revealed before the human and the homunculus, untouched by time, and Dante couldn't help but smile broadly.

"This will do quite nicely."

* * *

The sun shone through the trees, showering everything with its warm light. The fragrance of flowers permeated the atmosphere as Nature reawakened at this time of year, and anyone who passed by could hear the lively chirping of birds in search of a meal.

Faenel gave her master a little nudge, and Beregond complied with her wishes by patting her neck affectionately. Still, Beregond was distracted, pricking up his ears and taking in the sounds with a small smile on his lips. He hadn't realised how much he had missed being surrounded by trees, away from the grey colours of the city.

"It's almost spring again."

The Gondorian nodded at Havoc's comment. Both had been walking for some time, following the rest of Roy's team towards Resembool. Ed, Al and Winry were ahead with Roy so that would show the colonel the way to Aunt Pinako's house, thus giving the two men the chance for a private talk.

"How's your hand?" Beregond asked, almost out of the blue.

Havoc held up his bandaged hand. "It could have been better, but it's healing at least."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah, not really. It just itches me."

Beregond couldn't help but smile a bit. "That's good actually. The wound will close soon… as long as you don't punch Ed again."

Havoc faced Beregond agape. "How did you…?"

Beregond raised an eyebrow. "I'm from another world, not blind. I saw the cut on Ed's lip and the new bandages on your hand; it didn't take me long to figure things out," he said. "So what happened?"

Havoc didn't answer though. He averted his gaze and kicked a small pebble away instead. Just when Beregond was about to ask him again, Havoc stiffened and looked ahead. Curious, Beregond followed the lieutenant's example, and noticed that everyone had stopped on their tracks when the heard some strange noise just a few feet away from them.

"Hide!" Roy ordered, and everyone hid behind some bushes, hoping that they wouldn't be noticed.

A minute passed, then two… and then a young man appeared, whimpering and sniffling like a small child. Everyone stared at him, recognizing him at once and yet not understanding what was wrong with him.

"Isn't that Sergeant Bloch?" Riza finally asked in a whisper, uttering the question that crossed everyone's minds. "What is he doing here?"

"No idea, but it sounds serious," Winry mused, overhearing the woman. "I'd better go talk to him." With that, the girl jumped out of the bushes and stepped in front of the still disheartened sergeant. "Sergeant Bloch?"

"Oh, hi," Bloch said, not in the least surprised to see Winry so suddenly before him; he was too focused on his own grief. "Did you find Ed and Al?"

"Yes, we're on our way back to my home," Winry answered. "But… what's wrong with you?"

That was apparently the wrong thing to ask, for Bloch started sniffling again. "LIEUTENANT ROSS!" he answered, practically in a wail.

Winry blinked, perplexed. "What about her?"

Unfortunately, Sergeant Bloch couldn't say much in his upset state, so the team had no choice but to see for themselves what the problem was. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, the brothers, Roy, Riza and Beregond followed Sergeant Bloch back to Winry's house and watched curiously the scene that was revealed to them… at Aunt Pinako's porch, no less.

"I once saw an eagle with feathers black as obsidian," the man that sat with Lieutenant Ross said. "The same colour as your hair, in fact."

Ross blushed shyly. "You… really think so?" she asked, giggling like a schoolgirl.

The bespectacled man nodded with a smile. "I never thought I'd ever see such a beautiful colour. So I should thank you."

"Oh my…" she said, her face now almost crimson. "This is too much of a compliment."

_That _had Bloch revolt. "This is ridiculous! He makes one little polite comment, and she's all over him!" he hissed.

"Yeah… I guess that _is _serious," Riza whispered dryly, still watching the scene.

"It's weird though," Al noted as he his beside the woman. "I feel like I've seen this man somewhere before."

Beregond locked his eyes on the suit of armour. "Are you sure about this, Al?"

"Not really; it's just a feeling I have," Al admitted. "What do you think, Brother?"

Al, however, didn't get an answer.

"Brother?" Al looked to his left, only to see that Ed was no longer there. In fact, he was now running at full speed towards the porch. "Brother!"

Ed didn't hear Al, though. He just lunged at the man and punched him straight on the jaw, practically sending him flying.

"YOU BASTARD!"

Ross stared at the teen alchemist, stunned to see him there so suddenly. "Edward?"

Edward just towered over the dazed man, beside himself with fury. "YOU COME BACK AFTER MORE THAN TEN YEARS SO THAT I CAN SEE YOU FLIRT AROUND? DAMN YOU, OLD MAN!"

To say that the people hiding behind the bushes were stunned would have been an understatement. Even Beregond stared at the man incredulously, his jaw as though about to drop at any second.

"That's Hohenheim?" he breathed out.

"Father?" Al said, and then his flickers of eyes brightened. "I… I remember him! From the pictures! Dad, you're home!"

With that, Al immediately jumped out of his hiding place too and ran towards Hohenheim. But, as he approached, his step became more hesitant and his joy more subdued, until he ended up walking up to Hohenheim quite nervously.

"Um…" he started, uncertain. "You probably don't know who I am because of what I look like, but…"

Hohenheim smiled broadly, not in the least confused. "Alphonse… You sure got tall."

Al gasped. "You recognised me?"

Hohenheim nodded good-naturedly and stood up, then faced Ed, who was still regarding him warily. "What about you, Edward? Do you still hate milk?"

Though he knew his sons well, Hohenheim didn't stop to think what kind of effect that sort of comment would have on Ed. The teen alchemist practically saw red and sent his father flying again.

"FOR YOUR INFORMATION, I'VE GOTTEN TALLER, BASTARD! NOT THAT _YOU_ WOULD EVER NOTICE!"

Al looked as though a drop of sweat settled on his brow in his embarrassment. "Brother, you didn't have to do that."

"He had it coming," Ed declared, dusting his hands and thus settled the matter.

"Just what is going on out there?" Pinako's voice sounded from inside the house. Moments later, the woman herself appeared through the door, and the first thing she saw were Ed, Al and Hohenheim. Ross, on the other hand, fidgeted on her seat quite nervously, her face red all over. "Ah, I see you boys found your way back here without much problem."

"I'm afraid nothing's over, Dr. Pinako," Roy said at that moment, deciding it was high time to come out of hiding. "We're just trying to delay the inevitable as much as possible."

Pinako looked at Roy, small wizened eyes narrowing dangerously. "You again," she said. "Haven't I told you that no State Alchemist is welcome in this house?"

"You have," Roy said. "In this case, however, it couldn't be helped."

But Pinako wasn't listening to Roy anymore. Her eyes were locked on the tall man who was coming to their direction, accompanied by Bloch and a young woman – another soldier. She gasped before she could help it, and the blood drained from her face all at once.

"It… It can't be," she faltered, her voice a mere whisper. And the same thought must have crossed Hohenheim's mind too, for the bespectacled man stood up and stared at Beregond just as incredulously.

Beregond stopped in his tracks, unsure what to make of that kind of reaction; the boys kept looking back and forth at Pinako and their father, trying to figure out what they were missing. But fortunately, Roy saved the situation.

"It isn't him," he said. "I assure you, everything will be explained in due time. Can we step inside?"

Seeing as she had no other choice, Pinako accepted. And so, in less than half an hour, everyone was inside the house, keeping themselves on the alert because Hakuro's men were still circulating around Resembool. It would take a while before the Führer's men arrived in Central with their piece of news, and Roy preferred to avoid further trouble if it could be helped. Of course, Bradley would probably consider it strange that Roy didn't bring the boys straight to Central as he was ordered, but Roy was good at coming up with reasonable excuses; this time wouldn't be an exception either.

Still, Roy could do nothing about Ed's foul temper. Indeed, after the encounter with his father, the teen alchemist simply remained seated on a chair with a great scowl on his face, indicating that he was in no mood to talk. By nightfall, however, Scieszka decided she had to address him.

"You okay, Ed?"

Ed looked at the girl, and then drifted his gaze to the other people inside the room. Al and Winry were sitting at a table nearby with Ross and Bloch, while Riza was by the door and standing guard. He could see no sign of Havoc and the other guys though, so Ed figured they were standing guard outside the room and even outside the house.

"Ed?"

Ed shrugged, finally answering Scieszka's question. "I've been better." He looked in Ross' direction, glaring at her. "I could be spared of some certain… displays."

Ross fidgeted in her seat uncomfortably, blushing furiously again. "You… You misunderstood me, Ed. He was just telling me about his travels, that's all."

"Of course he was," Bloch grumbled, staring at his cup of coffee with a look of utter misery in his eyes.

"What's got into you anyway?" Ross asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity at the young sergeant's odd behaviour.

"I'm saying that you enjoyed hearing about his travels _very _much!"

"Well, I… haven't been to the places he has," Ross faltered, realising she'd been caught. "And he wears this nice perfume that no other soldier has…"

"Probably because they don't want to smell like sissies," Bloch countered.

"I hate that smell."

Everyone stared at Ed, for the vehemence in his voice was only too detectable. Even so, Ed kept talking.

"He left our house when Al was barely two years old. Our mom said that he did some research on Alchemy; he still didn't send us a single letter." He paused, locking his eyes on the floor. "But his scent still lingered in the house, even years afterwards. I thought I would never have to smell that perfume again, but Lyra wore the same thing, back in Liore."

"What?" Al sat up, his body language signifying that he was dumbfounded. "You met Lyra in Liore?"

Ed nodded.

"But… didn't she work for Dante?" Winry asked, aware of the girl's history.

"She claims she left her," Ed answered. "Although I'm not sure whether I should believe it or not."

"Yeah," Al mused, seeing his brother's point. At the next moment, his eyes flickered as an idea formed in his mind. "You know… Dad knew Dante. We could ask…"

"No," Ed snapped.

"But Brother, we've both seen what Dante's capable of. We'll probably need all the help we can get if we're to face her."

"We have Beregond; that's all the help we need," Ed declared.

"Speaking of which, where is he?" Winry asked, looking around the room.

"Outside," Riza answered. "He wanted to check the perimeter so that we wouldn't have any unpleasant surprises."

Ed frowned at those words. "Alone?"

Riza shook her head. "Colonel Mustang is with him."

"How come?" Al asked, quite surprised.

"I'm not sure," Riza replied, and she resumed with her guarding duty.

* * *

"Well, Sir? You realise what's the main problem with a frontal attack?" Beregond asked. Both men were standing by a small fence, engaged in deep conversation. After all, they had to discuss about their sparring, as well as Roy's weakness.

"Yes," Roy answered. "As you wield your sword, you change the air currents, keeping them constantly in flux. Even if I do pull up a flame, it doesn't have any accuracy."

"Exactly," Beregond said. "You will have to figure out another tactic."

"As well as the place where I can confront Bradley," Roy mused, brows furrowed in thought. "Under the circumstances, a closed area seems the best option."

"A room?" Beregond asked.

"Or a basement."

"You might get caught in the flames," the Gondorian pointed out.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Roy said, a small smile tugging on his lips. "You already have your orders, Sergeant. Worrying about me isn't one of them."

"Yet things changed."

The answer was a mere whisper, and it had Roy at a loss at first. That is, until he noticed Beregond looking in the direction of the house.

"Are you talking about Hohenheim?"

Beregond rested his back against the fence with a small sigh, crossing his arms. "Ed was so sure that he would never see his father again that he had Al believing it too; even I had started believing it. And I wanted to think that, if their father never came back, I could…" He stopped midway, deciding not to finish that train of thought. "Maybe I should step away."

Roy raised an eyebrow at that. "You've been their companion for a whole year now. You can't just step away."

"They need their father," Beregond argued.

"What they need is someone who can stick with them through thick and thin; especially Ed," Roy said. "His father walked away when the boys were only infants; his mother died soon afterwards and Ed almost lost his brother in their attempt to bring her back. A little girl that was like a sister to him fell victim to her own father's madness."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Beregond asked, frowning.

"Because you're one of the few who haven't gone out of his life yet," Roy answered. "And, from what Havoc said, you had more than enough chances to do just that."

Beregond stared at Roy in disbelief. "You know?"

Roy nodded. "Havoc screamed it at Ed yesterday."

"After punching him," the Gondorian mused as realisation caught up with him.

"Yes." Roy paused, regarding Beregond intently. "And you do realise why Ed was angry with you in the first place."

"He thought I abandoned him."

"Just as he thought that I abandoned him."

Both men turned around at the sound of that noise, surprised to see Hohenheim approaching them. The bespectacled man seemed calm, almost passive, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Mr. Elric?" Beregond asked before he could help it.

"You'll have to forgive my intrusion, but I couldn't help overhearing you," Hohenheim replied. "You two seem to know the boys quite well."

"I have to," Roy said, his expression unreadable. "They have been my subordinates for almost four years now."

"While you have been their escort for a year," Hohenheim said, locking his gaze on Beregond.

"That's right," The Gondorian said. "But I don't see how-"

"Today is the 28th of February," Hohenheim continued on. "The same day a good friend of mine died thirteen years ago. A friend whose face you now have."

At the next moment, he drew his hand from his pocket and tossed a bone in Beregond's direction. Alarmed, Roy tried to snap his fingers, only to realise in dismay that he didn't have his gloves on. The Gondorian, on the other hand, simply caught the bone in mid-air, his reflexes proving quick and sure. Hohenheim stared at Beregond incredulously, certainly not expecting that.

"This is impossible," he breathed out. "All homunculi freeze when they confront a part of the body they were based on. They are too paralyzed with fear."

"Except I'm not a homunculus," Beregond said and held up the bone. "So… whose bone is this?"

"William Brice's," Roy said, recovering from his initial shock, and he faced Hohenheim. "I've told you before that he isn't that man."

"Yes… I can see that now," Hohenheim admitted. "And yet such likeness is unnatural."

"It's a long story," Beregond replied, perhaps a bit more curtly than he would have liked. "But before I say anything else, I want to know who this William Brice was. I'm tired of hearing how much I look like him when I don't even know that man."

Hohenheim straightened his glasses, pondering on those words. "A logical request, I suppose," he said finally. "Very well, I'll tell you."

Roy supposed that that was his cue to leave. Nodding in Beregond's direction, he walked away into the shadows of the night. As for Beregond, he stared at Hohenheim, a look of anticipation in his eyes.

"Well?"

Hohenheim actually smiled at that.

"So alike…" he mused once more, and he started telling his story.

* * *

"You're still here?" Pinako asked, Ed raising an eyebrow in curiosity. When she noticed Al, Winry and the others retiring in order to get some rest, she intended to enter the living room and turn off the lights. But the teen alchemist remained seated in his chair, regarding her closely. "It's quite late, you know."

"I'm aware of that," Ed replied. "I was just waiting for you."

Pinako raised an eyebrow. "Me? What for?"

"So we can talk. Without interruptions."

Pinako's jaw clenched on the pipe as a terrible suspicion crossed her mind. Even so, she tried to keep her expression neutral as she answered. "What about?"

"This isn't the first time you've met Beregond, is it?"

Well, Ed certainly didn't beat about the bush. Pinako frowned, acting surprised. "Of course it is, Ed. Where could I have possibly met him?"

It was a ruse, a last attempt to let the matter be. But Pinako had underestimated Ed's stubbornness.

"Let me rephrase that then," the boy said. "This isn't the first time that you've seen Beregond's _face_, is it?"

Pinako now knew that she would be battling a lost cause if she tried denying anything more. And so, she shook her head, sighing.

"No, it isn't. Does it matter?"

"It matters to me," Ed answered. Groaning in frustration, he stood up and started pacing up and down the room in an agitated manner. "In the last month or so, I keep seeing in my dreams someone who has Beregond's face. It's crazy, but I can't shake off that feeling that I should know that man; I just don't understand why." He faced Pinako, looking at her hard. "All I know is that Mom and the old man knew him, as well as Winry's parents. That means you must have known him too; I saw the look on your face when you saw Beregond."

"Yes, I did know him," Pinako answered softly. "He was a kind and gentle person… just like your mother was."

That was exactly what Ed wanted to hear. He stopped in his tracks at once, but she just raised a hand in a sign that he should wait for her there. She got out of the room, then returned a few minutes later with a small photo album in her hands. After opening the album on the first page, she handed it to Ed. Though he frowned, Ed nevertheless decided to indulge the old woman and stared at the photo that dominated the page. His eyes widened when he saw himself, barely six months old, in the arms of his mother… and they weren't alone. Hohenheim and Beregond's look-alike stood to his mother's left and right respectively.

"Then… he was real," Ed murmured. Flesh fingers traced the form of the young man, taking in the love and care with which he looked in Trisha's direction and held Ed's tiny hand in his own. "Who was he, Aunt Pinako?"

Pinako's lips tugged to a small, rueful smile.

"Your uncle."


	5. William

**Resembool, 20 years ago**

Hohenheim kept his gaze locked on the ruins before him, wind caressing his hair and the feel of the soft grass warm under his shoes. It was late May, and the temperature had already gone up as a sign of a fast approaching early summer. Hohenheim didn't even need to wear his trenchcoat, so he discarded it on a small rock formation nearby – that is, what used to be a rocky wall – and walked forwards. Soon enough, he was in the centre of the destroyed structure, taking in his surroundings with a brooding heart.

It was strange how time had a way of changing things. He still remembered more than one such building spread out throughout the country of Amestris, considered holy and venerable, only to be consumed now by a simple thing as oblivion.

The croaking of a raven cut Hohenheim off his musings. Aware that that was a croak of alarm, the bespectacled man turned around, not sure what could have startled the bird. Indeed, a young man was standing several feet from him, possibly in his early twenties. He had straight brown hair, and a pair of green-hazel eyes that now regarded Hohenheim in an inquisitive, though friendly manner.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the young man finally said. "This place is filled with such memory and history, that you can't help but feel as if you become part of it."

"Quite right," Hohenheim replied, not wishing to say that he _was _history. He tilted his head, looking at the young man's appearance. He was dressed in comfortable clothes, carrying a satchel over his shoulder and a dun fedora hat in his hand; the heat clearly proved too much for the man. "You're an archaeologist."

"Is it that obvious?" the young man asked, chuckling. Finally, deciding that it was only proper to introduce himself, he approached Hohenheim and stretched his hand in a handshake. "I'm William Brice."

"Hohenheim Elric," Hohenheim answered, completing the handshake. "I'm not interfering with your work, I hope?"

"Not at all," William said with a smile. "I came here to make a sketch of the church for my PhD. That is, if you don't mind _my _being here."

"The place is open to all," Hohenheim said.

William smiled slightly, and he sat on the rock formation, practically next to Hohenheim's trenchcoat.

"You aren't from around these parts, are you?" he asked politely, digging out of his satchel a journal and an ink pen.

"No," Hohenheim admitted laconically.

"May I ask from where are you from exactly? Your accent is a bit strange," William asked again, though his eyes never left his journal as he started sketching.

_Ah… the eagerness and curiosity of youth,_ Hohenheim thought with a mental smile. Nevertheless, he didn't want to reveal anything about himself to an otherwise complete stranger. "From lots of different places."

William was hardly offended by the evasiveness of that answer. If anything, it seemed to intrigue him further.

"A wanderer, huh?" he asked.

"You could say that," Hohenheim said.

William's eyes seemed to light up at this. "You must have seen quite the amazing things on your journeys. Have you been in Drachma?"

Hohenheim nodded, even though it was a strange question.

"There are some pretty interesting ruins there," William explained, answering Hohenheim's curious glance. "Some miners even discovered a strange stone near the borders; a stone with three different languages written on it."

"That _is_ interesting," Hohenheim said sincerely. "What does the writing say?"

"No one's sure yet," William replied with a shrug. "But I've got to tell you, whoever manages to translate it, he is bound to make one of the greatest breakthroughs in archaeology. And, if we manage to find more such stones…"

"So you believe there are more of those there?" Hohenheim asked.

"There might be. Hopefully I might go there one day to see for myself," William asked.

"Making breakthroughs of your own?" the bespectacled man asked in mild tease.

"Maybe," the young archaeologist said. "But even if I don't, there are always others to take my place."

"You make it sound as if you're on a quest," Hohenheim noted.

William's face reddened. "It's a silly thing my father used to say and it rubbed off on me too," he explained. "He always thought that archaeologists should always search for the truth, and pass down their knowledge to the generations to come."

"I suppose he was an archaeologist too?" Hohenheim asked.

"Yes. Just like his father before him," William replied with a nod. "Who knows, maybe my son will become one too… or even my nephew." He stopped and looked at the sketch for a moment before smiling broadly. "It's done," he declared happily.

Hohenheim couldn't help but smile as well. "May I have a look?"

"Of course."

Hohenheim reached for the journal that the young man handed him and he looked at the sketch. He couldn't help but admire the likeness of the sketch to the real thing.

"You have quite the steady hand," the bespectacled man noted in approval. "You could have become an artist."

William shook his head. "It wouldn't bring money on the table, and I have a sister to take care of," he said. "Besides, this is more exciting."

"Of course it is," Hohenheim said, and he picked up his trench-coat. "Well, I suppose I should be on my way then," he declared, and he stretched his hand in another handshake. "Thank you for the company."

"You're welcome," William said, completing the handshake. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I… don't think so," Hohenheim replied. "I'm on my way to Central and I want to catch the afternoon train."

"Afternoon train?" William frowned. "There are no afternoon trains anymore. They rescheduled the itineraries two years ago."

"Oh, I see." Hohenheim didn't really like this piece of news, but he was also aware that there was nothing he could do about matters. It looked like he would have to spend the night in the open then.

William must have seen through Hohenheim's thought, and his eyes seemed to flash as an idea crossed his mind.

"Listen… My home isn't all that far from here and my sister is an excellent cook. You could come to our house and rest for a while."

"I don't want to impose…" Hohenheim started, unsure as to how he should react at that offer.

"Nonsense," William said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Trisha always likes meeting new people, you won't be an exception."

"Trisha?"

"My sister," William answered. "Now come along," he added, beckoning the man to follow him. "Home's that way."

Sighing in defeat at his new acquaintance's youthful eagerness, Hohenheim followed, unaware that he was bound to meet the very woman who would truly capture his heart.

* * *

If there was something that certainly impressed Hohenheim about his acquaintances was the bond the siblings shared. Trisha loved her brother, and William took care of the girl like any older brother should. There were even times that Hohenheim felt like an intruder who was about to separate them. For it wasn't long after that first meeting that his visits to Resembool became more frequent and for one reason alone – to see Trisha.

Neither William nor Trisha saw it that way, though. In fact, as the sympathy between Hohenheim and the woman gradually changed into affection and then into something even deeper than that, William gave his blessing willingly. He had decided that Hohenheim was a good man, and that he would never hurt Trisha. Besides, as the young man declared, if Hohenheim ever so much as upset Trisha, he would just seek him out and kill him.

It was a teasing statement at the time. Even so, Hohenheim soon discovered that it wasn't said idly.

* * *

It was late at night when it happened. Trisha and William had already retired to their rooms in order to get some sleep, while Hohenheim had said that he didn't feel tired just yet. So, even though the lights had gone out in the house, Hohenheim decided that he wanted to stay in the porch for a little while. He stood by the rail, lost in his thoughts, absentmindedly rubbing his arm, only to snap his head up at the sound of a twig snapping in two. Frowning, Hohenheim looked in every direction to see what could have caused that noise.

"Pinako? Sara?" he ventured. He knew that the Rockbells were good friends of Trisha and William's, and he supposed that it could as well be one of them.

"No," a woman's voice replied. "I hope you aren't disappointed."

At the next moment, the woman herself appeared, dressed in a long old-fashioned dress and her brown hair tied back in a bun. She seemed a few years older than Hohenheim, although she moved with an air of someone who was quite young.

Hohenheim clenched his jaw. Though he hadn't seen that face before, he knew perfectly well who was before him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"To see you, of course," the woman said, smiling. "I heard you were here, enjoying the charms of yet another young woman, so it was only appropriate to congratulate you. Is she pretty?"

Hohenheim curled his upper lip in distaste. "Unlike you, I don't change lovers as soon as I am tired of them."

"No, you just change bodies," the woman spat. "Tell me… does _she _know of your little secret?"

Hohenheim clenched his hands into fists.

"I didn't think so." The woman stepped closer, her dress rustling as it brushed the soft grass. "You're afraid that she'll reject you, that she'll think of you as a monster."

"What I'm afraid of shouldn't be your concern, Dante," Hohenheim snapped. "It hasn't been for three hundred years."

"And after all these years, you haven't found anyone who could understand you like _I _have," Dante said, a sweet smile on her lips, and she boldly clasped his hand in hers. "You and I are no different, Hohenheim, even though you don't want to see it."

"I don't know who you are, but I suggest you step back."

Hohenheim and the woman turned around, surprised. The bespectacled man was shocked to see William on the doorstep, a rifle in his hands and aiming it at Dante.

"Well, well," she said with a smirk. "It looks like the princess has a knight to protect her." She nevertheless retreated, realising that she had lost this round. "This isn't a goodbye, Hohenheim. We shall meet again – and we won't be interrupted, I assure you."

And with that she left, just as quietly as she had appeared. Hohenheim stood where he was for what felt like centuries, but he finally relaxed. He smiled a bit and faced William.

"You didn't have to go that far."

"When an unknown woman tries to seduce my sister's future husband, I have the right to take it as far as I want," William answered. "Even if the rifle isn't loaded," he added, and he discarded the weapon on one of the chairs nearby.

Hohenheim couldn't help but shake his head. "Then you had placed yourself in an even greater danger than you think. Dante isn't what she seems."

William didn't speak at once, his eyes still on the rifle. "And you are?"

The bespectacled man gasped, his left hand grabbing his right arm subconsciously. William, however, turned around, his face quite calm as he faced Hohenheim.

"I heard your talk," he said. "So… care to explain?"

Hohenheim didn't know what to say at first. His instinct dictated him to lie, to declare that William had simply misheard things and nothing more. But the words stuck in his throat in his attempt to utter them, especially since William regarded him with a serene expression that signified he was willing to trust Hohenheim in spite of everything.

"Well?" Will asked again.

No, Hohenheim couldn't lie his way out of that – he didn't want to anymore. He would tell William everything, even if it meant risking losing the young man's friendship and Trisha's love.

"William," he started. "What was your dream when you decided to become an archaeologist?"

William frowned, not expecting the question. Nevertheless, he indulged his friend. "To discover the truth about the world in which we live. Where it came from and what its future will be."

"Alchemists are a bit like that. Except the kind of truth we're looking for can give us the power to change the world as we see fit, like gods," Hohenheim said. "That's what I wanted to do as well. To reach the ultimate truth, so there would no longer be pain or sorrow. Not even death."

"And?" William asked, still looking Hohenheim straight in the eye.

Hohenheim smiled ruefully. "I thought I had succeeded."

At the next moment, he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing rotten flesh on his arm. William flinched, disgust and shock visible on his features, but he stood where he was. He still wished to hear the rest of the story.

And so, Hohenheim told him everything. He didn't leave out anything, for once feeling that he could open up to someone and share the burdens that he had been carrying for the last five hundred years. By the time he finished with his tale, the grey cloak of dawn had started covering the world around them. As for William, he listened in silence to everything Hohenheim said, and only spoke again just when Hohenheim believed that the young man would kick him out of the house.

"Do you love Trisha?" he asked softly.

Hohenheim didn't hesitate in his answer this time. "Enough to walk away if by staying here will only hurt her."

William nodded his understanding, and a wan smile appeared on his lips at last.

"Then let's hope it will never have to come down to that."

With that, both men, one accepting and the other relieved, ended the matter once and for all. Three months later, Hohenheim and Trisha were married, and it wasn't long before the woman brought to the world a little baby boy with intelligent amber-coloured eyes. And, when Alphonse was born too, it looked like Hohenheim couldn't possibly feel more at home or loved – he was for the first time truly happy in his long life. William was also by the couple's side every step of the way, and he loved both boys as if they were his own sons. On the other hand, Ed and Al adored their uncle, whom they called affectionately – and because of their young age – Wayam.

Then William collapsed.

* * *

Trisha was always a light sleeper. So it was no surprise that she woke up at once at the sound of something hitting the floor. When she went downstairs to see what that something was, however, she was horrified to see her brother sprawled on the floor, unconscious and deathly pale. She immediately called her husband but, no matter what he tried, Hohenheim couldn't wake up William. Worse, the young man was burning with fever, so there was nothing they could do but call the Rockbells for help. Yuri and Sara came to the house as fast as possible and, while Sara prepared some towels and cold water, Yuri and Hohenheim carried William to his room so that they could tend to him.

Neither Hohenheim nor Trisha knew how long they stayed outside William's room, waiting for either of the doctors to come out. Even Edward, who had woken up at the commotion and was now in his mother's embrace, seemed to understand that there was something very wrong; he kept looking at both his parents with a worried look in his eyes.

Finally, Sara came out of the room, looking quite worn out. Hohenheim and Trisha walked up to her, ready to ask her how was William doing, but the doctor raised her hand, eyes looking meaningfully on Edward. Understanding, Trisha left, intending to tuck her son in once more – she knew that Hohenheim would tell her everything as soon as they were alone, anyway.

What Sara told Hohenheim wasn't encouraging, though. Neither she nor Yuri could determine William's illness, but one thing was sure: it hadn't developed overnight.

"You mean… this might have happened before?" Hohenheim asked, eyes widened in disbelief.

"Not might. Yuri found several old bruises on William's head and back," Sara said. "I see you weren't aware of that," she added, noticing the surprised look on Hohenheim's face.

"None of us was," Hohenheim replied softly, a terrible suspicion crawling on the back of his mind. "How long do you think he's had this illness?"

The woman sighed. "We don't know. It could be weeks, months… even years."

"I see," Hohenheim said. He took out his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "When do you think he will wake up?"

"He is awake," Sara said. "He's even asked for you."

Hohenheim stared at Sara. "Me?"

She nodded. "You can go and see him, but don't stay for long. He needs rest."

Hohenheim understood. Nodding slightly in thanks, he stepped inside the room, and caught sight of William in bed. Yuri was still with him, helping him drink water from a small glass because of the weakened state the young man was in. Once he deemed William got some fluids back in his body, Yuri got up and patted Hohenheim on the shoulder in a gesture of encouragement before exiting. The door closed shut behind him with a gentle clicking sound, so that they two men would be alone.

Hohenheim was the first to speak, a sigh accompanying his words.

"I always wondered why you didn't seem upset over my condition. I suppose now I know."

"We all have our secrets," William said, smiling wanly. "It's ironic, you know… your secret involves your immortality, while mine involves my death."

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Hohenheim asked. "Trisha-"

"—didn't have to mourn me before my time," William cut in. "And now that she has you and the boys, the pain won't be so bad."

Hohenheim raised an eyebrow. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were hoping things would turn out that way."

"Who says I wasn't?" William said, chuckling softly – a motion that clearly pained him. He paused for a moment to regain some of his strength, then beckoned Hohenheim to come closer. Hohenheim did just that, unsure what to think of matters when the young man reached for his right arm and uncovered the rotten flesh underneath the sleeve.

"It has spread," he noted in a musing tone; but he didn't ponder on matters for long. He looked at Hohenheim, a pleading expression already reflected in his eyes. "I leave Trisha into your care now. Don't hurt her."

Hohenheim nodded, aware what William asked of him. "I won't."


	6. Chevaliers De Sangreal

"A few days later, William passed away quietly in his sleep. He was worn out after suffering for so long, but there was a small smile clinging on his lips when I found him. It was as if he was set free in those last moments and he had welcomed the next step unafraid."

"But I digress," Hohenheim noted, straightening his glasses. "On the very next day, we had the funeral, keeping the ceremony simple, just as William had requested. The only others who attended were the Rockbells, who were sad to see a good man gone."

"And the boys? Winry?" Beregond asked, listening intently to the story.

"Al was too young, and Winry didn't really understand what was going on; she couldn't. But Edward…" Hohenheim sighed. "I still remember him crying in his mother's embrace, saying that he didn't want William to leave, then screaming on the top of his lungs and asking his uncle to wake up. And the worst was yet to come. In the days that followed, Edward refused to eat or play with Alphonse. He even became violent when someone tried to talk to him, accusing them that they took William away from him."

Beregond saddened at that, understanding what that loss must have meant to the boy – the first out of many in Edward's life. Still, there was something that bothered the Gondorian.

"Edward doesn't seem to remember any of that," he said.

Hohenheim nodded. "I'm not surprised. Time has a way of healing a young boy's heart – even if it means offering him oblivion."

"Or sending him more problems along the way," Beregond pointed out wryly.

The bespectacled man's expression became wistful; he clearly understood what the Gondorian told him.

"I didn't want this," he said. "I intended to keep William's promise, and that was why I started researching for a way to fix my problem. But, after two years, I came up with nothing, and my skin only kept rotting further on."

"So you left."

"Please, don't judge me," Hohenheim said. "I was still hoping I'd be able to find the answers I had been looking for elsewhere. Xing, especially, is advanced in medical alchemy, so there was a chance I could find a way to heal myself there."

"Is that where you went?" Beregond asked.

"At first," Hohenheim replied. "Then I went to Creta, and then I travelled to Drachma, but I didn't find anything there either."

Beregond frowned. "There was a cottage at the Drachmanian borders. A woman by the name of Shaughnessy told the boys and me that you lived there for a time."

"I did," Hohenheim said, "Although I'm surprised that my sons would want to go so up north."

"In a way, they're in the same quest as you," Beregond said. "They have been for the last six years."

"I see," Hohenheim said. He pursed his lips momentarily in thought. "Mr. Beregond, can you please tell me your side of the story? And how did you end up with my sons?"

"If you have the patience for it," the Gondorian said.

Hohenheim's nod was enough as an answer, so Beregond started telling his tale from the beginning.

* * *

Neither Pinako nor Ed spoke some time. Ed especially had become particularly quiet from the moment the old woman finished her tale, and Pinako didn't know what to think of that reaction.

"Ed?" she asked softly.

The teen alchemist didn't answer, not at once anyway. He just smiled wanly, and stared down at his automail. "It's ironic," he murmured.

Pinako blinked, not really understanding the statement.

"Winry once said that Beregond cared about us like some sort of uncle," Ed explained. "I guess she pretty much hit the nail on the head there."

"Yes, I suppose she did," Pinako replied softly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," she added.

Ed, however, waved his hand dismissively. "You did it for my sake. There would be no point in bringing back bad memories," he said. "That was probably what mom must have thought too."

Pinako nodded, then looked at the boy closely. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Ed said, though there was a dry, mirthless tone in his answer. "I just wish it didn't feel like I stole another kid's dad so I could have an uncle in place of the one who died."

"What are you talking about?" Pinako asked, stared at Ed incredulously.

"That's right. You don't know," Ed said, his voice barely audible. And with that, he started telling the old woman everything concerning Beregond – his true identity, the circumstances under which he found himself in Amestris, and even what happened to him inside the Gate. Pinako listened intently, and though some of the things the teen alchemist told her sounded too incredible to be true, she accepted them nonetheless; she knew that Ed would never make up a story like that.

"So," she said, once Ed stopped with his narrative, "Beregond believes that he was sent here for a reason?"

"Yeah," Ed answered, "That's why he stayed with us all this time."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Pinako's lips. "It looks to me that he wants to see you back to your original bodies just as bad as you and Al do," she noted. "But what will be left to him then?"

Ed gasped. "What do you mean?"

"Isn't it obvious enough?" the old woman said. "His whole life here is determined by one purpose; to help you. But what will happen if your quest comes to an end, and you restore your bodies? Where is he to go from there?"

The boy's eyes widened; it was clear that Ed hadn't thought of that option. He remained silent, trying to figure out the best answer to that question, until he finally made up his mind.

"He will stay with me and Al."

"Are you sure about this, Ed?" Pinako asked. "There will come a time that you won't need him."

Ed smiled at that. "Aunt Pinako … would there ever be a time that we wouldn't need mom, had she been alive?"

It was then that Pinako understood. Ed didn't regard Beregond as a companion anymore, or even as simply a friend. No. Ed's emotions for the Gondorian ran deeper than that; almost as deep as his emotions for his brother.

Ed saw in Beregond a family.

* * *

Al and Winry still remained seated at the top of the stairs, barely moving. They had heard Ed and Pinako's talk, and they could only look at each other in mild confusion when the living room had grown quiet once more.

"I had no idea," Al murmured, his eyes flickering. "Ed mentioned that he remembered someone who looked just like Beregond, but I never thought that it would be something like this."

"That makes two of us," Winry said thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, Al."

Al, however, just shrugged. "It's okay. I can't miss what I didn't know I had," he said. "But still, I can't help thinking that Beregond's presence here is more than just coincidence or an accident after all."

"Why is that?" the girl asked.

"Beregond had said that the Amestrians and the Gondorians share common ancestors," Al said. "What if Brother, Beregond and I share a common ancestor, too?"

"So you think you three are actually related?"

Al nodded. "It makes sense, doesn't it? Brother and I used our blood in order to recover mum's soul. But… we weren't able to find her inside the gate."

"But you found Beregond."

"Exactly. Maybe our blood connection guided us to him," Al said.

"And so, you got someone in place of your mom, when he got two boys to regard as his sons," Winry pointed out with a smile.

Al chuckled embarrassedly. "I wouldn't know about that," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I mean, he does care about us a lot, but-"

"I do know," the girl said, clasping of Al's gauntlets in her hands. "I see it in his eyes."

"Really?" Al asked.

Winry hummed her affirmation. "I'm not surprised that you haven't noticed it. You haven't even seen what's in my eyes when I look at you."

Al's eyes grew bigger in surprise. "Winry?"

Winry simply brought herself closer, her forehead pressing Al's and her nose nuzzling his face plate.

"I want to see your face again, Al," she whispered, and her fingers caressed his metal jaw. It was a touch that Al couldn't feel, but the suit of armour knew only too well what it meant. And Al knew that, if he had a heart, it would have skipped a beat right there and then. His own fingers reached for the girl's face, but she stepped back before he could touch her. She headed towards her room without another word.

It was then that Al realised that he had been missing more than just his body – and it filled his soul with unprecedented pain.

* * *

Hohenheim removed his glasses for a moment and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Beregond didn't say anything, but he somehow knew that the other was trying to hide a tear that threatened to trickle down his face.

"I should have been with them," he said softly.

Beregond smiled in a wry manner. "It's easy to say what should have been done," he pointed out. "But the truth of the matter is that you can't change the past. All you can do is decide what must be done now."

Hohenheim considered Beregond's words carefully, and he put his glasses back on. "Of course. Forgive my display."

The Gondorian waved his hand dismissively, showing in this way that there was no harm done. But there was obviously something that set Hohenheim thinking, for he regarded Beregond closely.

"You said that your gods brought you to this world so that you could live the remainder of your days here."

"I did," Beregond answered.

"Have you ever wondered why you met Edward and Alphonse in particular?"

The Gondorian blinked. "Do you mean why I had to awake in Amestris at the present day and not some other time and place?"

"Not exactly," Hohenheim replied, smiling a bit. "What I'm asking is: did you ever consider your meeting with Edward and Alphonse as more than mere chance?"

Beregond clenched his jaw in thought. He had to admit that he hadn't thought of that, and it must have been evident in his eyes as well, for Hohenheim continued on.

"I know something about the history of the names too," he said. "William means 'Will to protect', and Brice means 'Stone'."

Beregond flinched, eyes widening ten fold. "But my name also means…!" he exclaimed, but his voice died in his throat; the realisation was too shocking.

"Yes," Hohenheim said with a nod. "It seems your gods knew exactly what they were doing. Who knows… perhaps they even acted out of pity for my sons' predicament. I certainly hope they did."

Beregond swallowed hard and leaned against the rail, suddenly feeling quite overwhelmed. Even so, Hohenheim was far from done.

"Because it would mean Ed and Al couldn't be left in better hands."

Beregond stared at Hohenheim, trying to understand what the man was telling him. But Hohenheim simply dug out form the inner pocket of his overcoat a small journal and handed it to the Gondorian.

"This is my diary. It contains all you need to know about Dante, so use it wisely."

Beregond felt like his jaw would drop on the ground. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, confused.

"Because someone has to stop her," Hohenheim replied with a weak smile, and he patted the man on the shoulder. "I leave everything into your care now."

With that, the bespectacled man turned on his heel and walked away, letting the grey mist of pre-dawn swallow him whole. All Beregond could do was watch him go, his hands holding the diary tightly.

_TBC..._


	7. Constant Path

It was barely dawn when Ed got up from his bed and dressed. There wasn't much sunlight, but the boy still managed to find his way around the house. He didn't want to turn on the light anyway. He didn't want to alarm anyone of his presence, especially Al. What he intended to do, he intended to do alone.

He went down the stairs without making a sound, then exited the house and headed towards the tool-shed. It didn't take him long to find what he had been looking for, so he quickly picked up the shovel and set off for the cemetery. His step was slow and burdened, and he didn't have the strength to lift his head.

It was the bitterest of ironies. All these years, he had walked on that same path over and over to pay his respects to his mother. Now he was going to desecrate her.

The soft peeping sound of robins reached his ears, and he felt his heart sinking even lower. His mother always loved robins; she always smiled whenever she heard their song. In fact, the cemetery was filled with them, as if the little birds wanted to keep her company.

_Mom…_

He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump that formed in his throat and felt like it was chocking him, but it was of no use. So he simply marched on, aware that it was the only option left for him now. A few minutes later, he saw the metal doors of the cemetery, already open to any visitors, and he walked in. At the next moment, however, he stopped in his tracks, because he caught sight of someone else already there.

Beregond stood in front of William's grave, his hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed on the engraved name on the stone. He shifted on his legs, then made a motion as if kicking an invisible stone. It was something that actually made Ed smile as he watched the Gondorian from a distance. It seemed Beregond had picked a lot more habits from Ed than the teen alchemist believed.

"You know… I came here, planning to say all sorts of things to you, and yet now I realise I'm not sure from where to begin."

Ed frowned, realising that Beregond had also found out the truth about William. He didn't know how that happened, but, in a way, Ed was glad that the Gondorian knew. Beregond had finally understood the whole truth about the circumstances under which he came to Amestris, and he could put a closure to that chapter in his life once and for all.

Beregond scanned the date on the gravestone. "28th of February, 1902… You would be my age if you were still alive." He sighed. "And as of today, it's been a whole year since I've been reborn here. I doubt anyone remembers that though."

Ed bit his lower lip, chiding himself. He hadn't remembered at all.

"I can't help but wonder what would happen if we ever met. Would you feel as stunned as I did when I learned about you? Maybe think of me as a missing link from your past? Or would you be angry with me for living the life that was meant to be yours?" The man bowed his head, and his voice softened. "Even if that's the case, I can't say I'm sorry. The Valar had their reasons for this arrangement, and it's not in my place to doubt it. I can only say that I will be at the boys' side, just as you would have been. And I hope you won't consider it too audacious of me if I tell you I've come to care about them as if they were _my_ nephews."

He didn't say anything else. He simply waved his hand and walked away, not bothering to look at the flowers that suddenly grew on William's grave. In fact, he didn't even notice Ed as he passed by the boy; for Ed took cover behind a large gravestone nearby, and he only stepped out in the open when he made sure he was alone.

That also meant that that was his cue to do what he had to do. And Ed had to act quickly, before anyone saw him and asked questions. He walked up to his mother's grave, and held up the shovel, trying to muster all of his courage. Yet he couldn't bear looking at the engraving on the stone; he closed his eyes, two words flowing out of his lips.

"Forgive me."

The shovel struck the ground, and dug the first pile of dirt, then a second and third. It was an action that Ed repeated constantly, almost mechanically, his sheer determination urging him on to finish what he started because there was no turning back anymore. He barely registered the clouds that accumulated up in the sky, dampening it grey; he didn't pay heed to the thunderclaps that boomed over his head; and he didn't stop not even when the first drops of rain fell down. He just kept on until he finally got what he had come for in the first place.

It was a sickening feeling to hold the small box that contained his mother's remains, more sickening than Ed had thought at first. He couldn't even control himself as he helplessly purged the contents of his stomach for what felt like an eternity, before he finally got back on his feet. He had to close the grave once again, after all. Thankfully, that was a much easier task than digging up the grave had been, and it didn't take him more than a quarter of an hour.

By the time he was finished, Ed was exhausted and caked in mud practically all over his clothes. Still, the boy couldn't bring himself to go home just yet. He would probably be missed, yes; but Ed preferred that from the stares he would get due to his condition. It was with that thought that he headed to the opposite direction from Aunt Pinako's house. The river wasn't too far from the cemetery, and Ed hoped that he would be able to wash himself there.

* * *

The sun was setting when Breda, Havoc, Falman and Fuery decided that there was no more danger of anyone suspicious looking coming to Doctor Rockbell's house, so they decided it was high time to relax. Breda sat on a chair, while Havoc lit one of his cigarettes and settled on the stairs. Fuery and Falman, on the other hand, simply rested their backs against the rail of the porch, their arms crossed. They didn't say much, preferring to enjoy the quiet the fast-approaching evening provided. But, soon enough, Breda stretched, then sat up on his chair on the porch, rubbing the back of his neck in a bored manner.

"Well, that has been a quiet day," he declared. "If anything, it's a nice change after all the trouble we've been through."

"Yeah, I guess," Havoc said absentmindedly, heaving a sigh.

"Did the Colonel get any news from General Hakuro's men?" Fuery asked, straightening his glasses as he locked his gaze on his two friends.

"From what I gather, he sent them away, declaring that Ed and Al are his captives," Falman noted.

"That same story again?" Breda said with a snort. "Makes you wonder why we're working with people who're that naïve to believe a story like that."

"I doubt Bradley and the Brass pick the soldiers for their brains," Falman pointed out dryly.

"True," Breda consented, holding his palms upward in a gesture of peace. "Since we're at it, where did the Colonel and Riza go?"

"He went to the post office to post a telegram to Maes and Sarah. He wanted to let them know of our progress."

At that, Havoc stood up, put his hands in his pockets and walked away in silence. He kept his head bowed, not bothering to look in the direction he was going as he got slowly swallowed by the darkness of the shadows the setting sun cast onto the world.

"Sheesh, what's wrong with him?" Breda asked, raising an eyebrow.

"As if you don't you know," Fuery said in a wry tone.

Breda frowned for a moment but, as he caught on, he mouthed a small 'oh' and shook his head.

"He's really head over heels for that Sarah person, isn't he?"

"Well, she didn't dump him for the Colonel," Falman declared half-teasingly, half-serious. "She must love him back."

"And they're not the only ones who feel the love in the air," Fuery said with a grin. "Ed's brother is growing up."

Breda and Falman stared at Fuery incredulously. "Wait…" the second lieutenant said, "You mean… Al and Winry…?"

Fuery nodded. "I saw them talking about an hour ago and, I've got to tell you, it looks like something is going on between them."

"I'm surprised," Falman said. "I would have expected Winry to choose Ed."

"Guess she sees him more like a brother," Breda noted with a shrug. "Not that Ed will be all that disappointed, I think. He wants Al to be happy."

"By the way, has either of you seen Ed?" Fuery asked. "He's been gone all day."

"Beats me," Breda replied. "Beregond hasn't seen him either."

"Now that's strange, considering Ed has really grown attached to our Gondorian friend," Falman pointed out.

"You can say that again," Fuery said.

The word had barely flowed out of the sergeant-major's lips, when the three soldiers heard the sound of footsteps closing in. Alarmed, the men reached instinctively for their guns, but they immediately relaxed upon seeing Ed.

"Speak of the devil," Breda noted, though he had to admit that there was something off with the kid. He seemed listless, even subdued somehow. "Where were you?"

Ed looked up, a big grin forming on his lips. "Oh, you know… just checking out the place. It's been a while since the last time I was here."

"I doubt it changed all that much," Breda replied, waving his head in a dismissive manner. "This place is pretty quiet…. Too quiet for my tastes."

"Can't help you with that," the boy said, joking. At the next moment, his nostrils twitched as he smelled something. Breda sniffed the air as well, and he had to admit that there _was _the scent of a pie getting baked.

"Great! I'm starving!" the teen boy declared, and he rushed inside quite eagerly, without even waving the soldiers goodbye.

Breda, Falman and Fuery shook their heads, thinking that Ed was just impossible at times. Then again, none of them were aware that Ed's shoulders slumped forward as soon as he closed the door behind him, or that food was the last thing in his mind. He simply headed to his room, his steps sounding heavy and weary.

* * *

Beregond was sitting in the living room, reading Hohenheim's journal, when he heard the sound of a door opening. Snapping his head up, he managed to catch a glimpse of Ed as the teen alchemist entered. Ed, however, didn't notice the Gondorian; he headed up the stairs without paying any attention to his surroundings. It didn't seem like had any strength left in him anyway, if the tired and haggard look on the boy's face was any indication.

Beregond shifted in his place, unsure what to do. His first thought was to hurry after Ed and see what was wrong. But he also remembered that Ed was a proud person, sometimes too proud for his own good. He didn't want to make the boy feel as though he was taking pity on him.

Still, even if it meant that he would somehow help…

Finally making up his mind, Beregond got up and walked towards Ed's room. The Gondorian was sure that that was where his young friend took refuge. Sure enough, he found the door all but closed, as though Ed wanted to somehow shut out the rest of the world. Pursing his lips momentarily, Beregond decided to just walk in without knocking. Ed would probably snap at him for his indiscretion, yes; but he didn't want to break the silence in such a rude way either.

With that thought, Beregond gently pushed the door open. Just as he suspected, Ed was on his bed, hugging his knees and looking away from the door. He barely moved a muscle as Beregond walked inside, making sure he pushed the door behind him to sink the room in comforting darkness once more.

"Ed?"

Again, the only answer he got was silence. But, just then, Beregond noticed the small box near Ed's feet. Only then did everything fall into place.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"So am I," Ed replied at last, his voice nothing more than murmur. "Al and I tried to transmute our mom in the hopes that we would be happy again. It turned out we gained nothing but pain. And it never ends… not really anyway."

Beregond heaved a sigh, then boldly sat on the bed as well, facing the boy.

"Ed… Everything comes to an end, even if sometimes it's too far away for us to see it," he said. "This path that we've chosen goes on and on, and all we can do is follow it, no matter how heavy the burden is in our shoulders."

"And if the burden becomes unbearable?"

It was a tearful question, yet Beregond smiled a bit and placed a hand on Ed's head in an affectionate caress.

"Then we ask someone to hold it for us till we're strong enough to carry it on our own again."

That was all Edward could take. Closing his eyes, he gently lied down, hugging himself. "I'm tired."

"Then rest," Beregond answered and, before he realised what he was doing, his fingers ran through the blond hair in a soothing manner. Ed didn't seem to mind, though. He simply curled closer to himself and let sleep claim him; while Beregond remained watching over the boy, long after the latter fell asleep.

* * *

Ed woke up at the sound of voices talking agitatedly among themselves. Sighing, the boy just turned his back to the window, hoping that he would be able to sleep at least a few more minutes.

What he didn't expect to hear were cries of surprise and indignation, or to catch a glimpse of a light that could only be part of an alchemical reaction. Aware that this was definitely not good, Ed shot up from his bed and dressed; then went down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him. The first person that he saw was Aunt Pinako, who was holding in her hands a wrench as a weapon.

"Glad to see you're up," she said dryly. "Perhaps now you can separate them?"

Ed blinked in confusion; nevertheless, he complied with Aunt Pinako's suggestion. At the next moment, he was outside, and he was staring a sight that almost made his jaw drop. Breda, Falman, Fuery and Block were knocked out cold, while Havoc was holding a gun that was deformed beyond recognition. Ross and Riza were the only ones who seemed able to fight yet, aiming their guns at…

…_Teacher and Mr. Curtis?_

"Friends of yours?" Izumi asked Ed, hardly fazed.

Ed wasn't sure he could answer in words in the stunned shock he was in, so he just nodded.

"Right," Izumi said, and she walked up to Ed without paying attention to Riza and Ross. "We need to talk."


	8. The Letter

Elysia felt her father's fingers jabbing her small form in a playful manner, and she let out a squeal of laughter that sounded like music to her mother's ears. Indeed, Gracia was sitting on the couch, watching Maes and her daughter with a broad smile on her lips. She had every reason to be happy, after all. All this time, she had believed that Maes was dead, only to have him back as if by some sort of miracle. It was almost too good to be true, and some part of her still feared that she was merely living a wishful dream from which she didn't want to wake. That is, until Maes would regard her with the same loving manner that she thought she'd never see again, reassuring her n this way that the worlds was really set right once more.

A brief knock on the door cut into the woman's musings, and she exchanged glances with Maes. Knowing what to do, Maes swiftly picked up Elysia in his arms, still acting as if this was all part of the game, and he went upstairs to hide. Only then did Gracia go to answer the door.

But, thankfully, there was no need for an alarm. It was just Sarah standing on the threshold, her green eyes alert for anything out of the ordinary.

"Am I intruding?" she asked.

"No, please, come in," Gracia replied with a smile, and she beckoned Sarah inside. "I didn't expect to see you today," she added, closing the door behind her.

"I wasn't planning on coming, truth be told. However, I've just received news from Colonel Mustang," Sarah said. "Can I speak with Maes?"

"Of course," Gracia said, motioning her hand in the direction of the couch. "Make yourself at home, I'll tell him to come down."

Sarah nodded her understanding and she sat down, while Gracia went upstairs to fetch Maes. Intrigued, the bespectacled man handed Gracia their daughter and then followed her downstairs, wishing to see what was that all about.

Sarah clearly saw through Maes' questioning look, for she opened her purse and dug out from it a small piece of paper.

"I got this telegram earlier today," she said. "Colonel Mustang wanted you to know that he's recovered Ed and Al, and he's with them at Resembool."

That certainly caught Maes' attention. "What about Hakuro's men?"

"They've returned empty handed. Roy convinced them that he would return the boys to Central personally, if only to make up for the uh… what was it now?" She paused, acting as though she thought about it for a moment, and then made a face of feigned realisation. "…_Faith_ he had placed on a soldier who put the military into shame."

"Roy still has a way with words, I see," Maes answered with a grin. "When are they to return?"

"He didn't say," Sarah replied. "He only said that we should be prepared, whatever that means."

Gracia couldn't help it. She held her daughter closer to her, all kinds of thoughts crossing her mind. Maes, however, still remained calm and collected as he nodded his understanding; then faced both her and Elysia, clasping a hand over hers.

"Gracia… I think Elysia should have her bath now."

Gracia knew what Maes really meant by that; she knew her husband only too well. Still, deciding to have faith in his judgement, she nodded and exited the room so that Maes and Sarah would talk alone. She was sure they had a lot to talk about.

Maes watched Gracia walk out of the room, eyes locked on her form and his daughter's, and he couldn't help but let out a small sigh. He straightened his glasses momentarily, lost in thought, but he quickly remembered himself and faced Sarah. The woman was still sitting on the couch, keeping her legs crossed and her hands on her lap. Though Maes saw the forced smile on her lips, he could also detect her melancholic expression. Maes tilted his head, unsure what to make of things.

"It's nothing," she replied to his look in a dismissive tone. "My mind drifted elsewhere."

She didn't have to say anything else. Maes understood about whom she was thinking about.

"You'll see him again," he said reassuringly.

"Not before we can have a small measure of peace first," Sarah answered. "There's still the matter of Bradley to be taken care of."

"Yeah…" Maes straightened his glasses once more, and finally took a place next to Sarah. "That might be sooner than we think if Roy's words are any indication."

"You think the colonel will make his move then?"

Maes nodded. "It's the perfect timing. That war in Liore was no victory, and the media are already talking about the massacre there. People will start doubting Bradley's way of running things, and this will work to our advantage. There are plenty of officers who will want to step forward and assume command as Führer."

"The Brass won't know whom to trust," Sarah said, seeing through Maes's train of thought.

"Exactly. And so we can go through with the coup d' etat while they're distracted."

Sarah frowned slightly. "It's a risky stunt. They won't let us get away with this… or anyone who's connected to us for that matter."

"You're worried about your daughter." It wasn't a question; both he and Sarah knew that.

"Aren't you?"

Maes heaved a sigh. Sarah was right, there was no question about it. He had simply hoped that it wouldn't have to come to the point that he would have to separate himself from Gracia yet again. But, if it meant protecting her, it was certainly worth it.

* * *

When Izumi said that she and Ed needed to talk, it didn't take a great mind to guess that she meant in private. So, since it was to everyone's best interests not to go against her wish, they allowed both the woman and her former student to converse in the comfort of the living room. Ed sat on a chair, looking as if ready to feel the wrath of Izumi on his head, while Izumi stood by a window with her arms crossed.

"You know why I'm here," she said.

Ed nodded. "I take it you've found something back in Dante's house."

"Yes… although it wasn't what I had expected," Izumi answered, and she cast her eyes momentarily on the boy's red coat; the insignia wove on it was still visible. "A winged snake on a cross… It's intriguing how she twisted that symbol of good and turned it into evil."

"You didn't know what was in her mind, Teacher," Ed said.

"But the signs were there for me to see," Izumi said. "The way she belittled humans, regarding them as inferiors to her and unworthy of her assistance. It was against everything an alchemist stands for, yet natural for a god-to-be."

Ed blinked. "Because of her search for the philosopher's stone?"

"No." She dug out of her pocket several yellowish envelopes, and she handed them to the teen alchemist. "I found these in the mansion. They're letters that your father had sent to Dante, while they were still in contact."

"Well, there's something that she didn't lie about," Ed muttered darkly, and he opened the first envelope to read the letter inside. However, he barely read the first few lines when his eyes widened, and his jaw felt like it would drop on the floor a second time that day.

"These are love letters!" he exclaimed.

Izumi said nothing, nor did she have to. Rage igniting in his heart, Ed crumbled the letter in his hands in disgust.

"How could he?" he said, barely able to control his voice. "Mom gave him everything, and the bastard had an affair with that… that…"

"In his defence, the affair had ended long before your father met Trisha," Izumi replied.

"How do you know?" Ed asked in a restrained growl.

"Look at the date."

Ed did.

_May 13__th__… 1538._

Ed gasped, his anger dissolving into thin air. "What the hell?"

"Exactly," Izumi said. "It took me a lot of time to read all those letters in the appropriate order so that I could finally understand, but the gist is this: Your father and Dante had managed to create a philosopher's stone, and they used it so that they could attach their souls to other, younger bodies whenever old age caught up with them. It was their way of gaining immortality."

"So… my father is actually more than four hundred years old?" Ed asked, aghast.

"His spirit is," Izumi answered.

Ed didn't know whether he should be amazed or sick. "So why did he leave Dante? They seemed to have a lot to… share."

"None of the letters explain," Izumi said. "In his last correspondence, he merely claimed that he had to leave for both their sakes and that she shouldn't expect him to come back."

"Joy. Abandoning his wives is a habit of his, apparently," the teen alchemist muttered under his breath. "Do any of the letters say how did they make the philosopher's stone?"

"All that I know is that they used a city," Izumi said.

"Right." Making up his mind, Ed got on his feet and headed to the exit.

"Where are you going?" Izumi asked.

"I'm going to have a talk with the old man," Ed replied, opening the door. Not surprisingly, Beregond and Al were waiting outside in the hallway, and they were now regarding the teen alchemist in a perplexed manner.

"What's wrong, Brother?" Al asked.

"I'll tell you what's wrong; our father is a damn liar!" Ed said. "He had a philosopher's stone and he kept it for himself! He could have saved Mom, and he decided to go sightseeing instead!"

"Actually, he no longer had a philosopher's stone, and he went away to find a cure for himself," Beregond said then, looking quite serious. "He couldn't bear the thought that he would outlive the most precious things to him."

"So he says! If I get my hands on him, I'll-" Ed froze, for it was then that Beregond's words truly registered. "Wait a minute… You knew?"

"Not since yesterday," Beregond answered, and he dug out of his pocket a small journal. "Hohenheim gave me this before leaving, saying that everything that we wanted to know is here. Yes, Ed," the Gondorian added, seeing through Ed's surprised look, "He's left again."

"Where to?" Ed asked, frowning.

"To find Dante," Beregond replied. "I don't think he liked the idea of someone using his own sons as puppets to create a philosopher's stone."

"Well, his timing stinks!" Ed exclaimed with a huff.

"Why? What did you want to know, Brother?" Al asked, red eyes locking on Ed.

"He and Dante had used a city in order to create a philosopher's stone," Ed said. "If we could find the ruins of that city, we would probably be able to find some clue concerning her; maybe even what's her next step now that we're onto her."

Beregond pursed his lips momentarily. "You know what they say. Ask and ye shall receive."

"What do you mean?" Ed asked, staring at the Gondorian.

"According to this journal, the unknown city is directly under Central; sunk after the creation of the philosopher's stone," Beregond said. "Moreover, Hohenheim has folded inside the journal a map which shows the way to that city via a secret passage. All we have to do is enter Central from the East and find a small abandoned church."

"You realise that you'll all be going straight into the wolf's jaws," Izumi pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," Ed admitted. "But we can't keep hiding forever."

The woman smiled at those words, and she looked at Ed fondly. "You really _have _grown."

Ed shifted on his legs, feeling a small blush creeping up his features. However, he got back on focus, and he rubbed his chin in thought.

"Well, if we're to go to Central, we need to find a way to get there as fast as possible," he said. "I'm not sure how we'll be able to do that."

"You're still supposed to be the Colonel's captives," Beregond said. "We could go by train under the pretext you're on your way to face a court-martial."

"True… but the Colonel can't just let you go, or he'll be facing problems of his own," Izumi added. "Unless, of course, someone helps you escape."

"Who?" Ed asked, blinking.

"Um… Ed?" Al said. "I think you're looking at her."

Ed's eyes widened, and he stared at Izumi in disbelief, but her nod only verified matters. Wincing, Ed realised that history had a way of repeating itself indeed.

"Just don't hit us too hard this time," he said in resignation.

* * *

Gracia closed the last one of her bags slowly, a sigh escaping her lips. The night was fast approaching and the room was in semi-darkness already, yet she didn't turn on the light. And though she could feel Maes' gaze locked on her as he stood at the threshold of their bedroom, she didn't want to look at him either. She kept directing her gaze elsewhere, under the pretext that she was making sure she wasn't forgetting anything.

Maes, however, knew her only too well.

"You don't want to leave."

Gracia froze momentarily, not sure what to answer. In the end, she decided it was only proper to reply truthfully.

"No, I don't," she said in a soft tone. Her fingers traced the leather surface of the bag. "We can still stay here."

"Things are going to become really ugly from now on," Maes replied. "I don't want you or Elysia caught in this. You know that."

"What about you?" Gracia asked, looking back at her husband. "I thought I lost you once; I don't want to go through that again."

"That's why you have to go," Maes replied, stepping closer. "I need to know you're safe, so that I can help Roy without any setbacks."

"But-"

"Please, Gracia." He stretched his hand to caress her cheek soothingly, but she pulled back.

"No, Maes. Why must I always wait?" Gracia said, trying to control her voice and yet failing miserably. "Why do I have to leave, trembling at the thought that you'll probably get killed _this_ time? I almost died the first time. If anything happens to you now…"

Maes immediately embraced her, shushed her in a soothing tone. She tried to fight him back at first, but the fists she landed on his chest were only half-hearted ones and Maes remained where he was. He sensed her anger and frustration, and he was willing to ease it in any way he could. His fingers started running through Gracia's hair, caressing it in the same loving manner that he always had ever since they got together.

"If I know you're waiting for me, I can return to you," he said, his gentle voice reverberating through his body.

That was all Gracia could take. Feeling tears welling up her eyes, she also wrapped her arms around her husband's form and didn't let go for a long time.

"Be careful," she whispered finally.

"I will," Maes answered, sealing his promise with a tender kiss.

That was all the reassurance she needed. Feeling her heart fluttering with hope once more, she picked up her bags and walked out, already calling Elysia at her side.

* * *

The first thing that Ed and Al did as soon as they agreed to Izumi's plan (albeit uncertainly), was to talk to Colonel Mustang and inform him about what they were thinking of doing. The Colonel nodded his understanding, and he promised that he wouldn't put up too much of a fight; just enough to keep the Brass off his back till he made his own move. Though neither of the boys understood what the Colonel meant by that, they decided not to pry any further. Something in the way the superior officer's voice warned Ed and Al that they didn't want to know.

By the time they had made these sort of plans, the sun had already set, and the boys realised that Beregond hadn't been with them at all after their talk with their teacher. Not sure what to make of that strange disappearance, Ed and Al decided to locate the Gondorian in order to make sure that nothing was wrong.

It didn't take them long to find the man. He was sitting on the porch, resting his back against the chair and looking ahead at the fields as they were covered by the dark veil of night. He turned around upon the sound of the familiar footsteps, and a smile tugged on his lips when he saw Ed and Al approaching.

"You've been here all day?" Ed asked, frowning.

Beregond shrugged. "I felt I should let you boys do your own thing," he answered.

Ed and Al exchanged a glance in slight concern. Beregond sounded tired, almost listless. Something _was_ wrong. And yet the man was still smiling as he pointed towards Faenel; the mare was resting several feet away, at the centre of the field.

"I'll have to leave her here," he said. "Central City is no place for a horse, even one as loyal as her."

The boys looked at the horse, then at the Gondorian. Al stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.

"Don't worry. Aunt Pinako and Winry will look after her," he said in a gentle tone.

"I know they will," Beregond said.

Ed felt like revolting. Beregond was acting as if there was nothing left for him anymore.

"What's the matter?" he asked, keeping his tone in check. "We're finally reaching the end; you should be happy!"

Beregond looked at the young alchemist. "I _am _happy. Happy for both of you," he said.

"Then why do you look so sad?" Al asked, red eyes locking on Beregond's own.

Beregond, however, just patted the man on the helm. "It's nothing. I was just thinking, that's all."

"Really?" Ed said, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

Beregond nodded.

That, Ed suppose, should suffice as answer enough. He sighed, accepting Beregond's secrecy for now, and then sat down on a chair close by.

"You know… Al and I have been thinking too," he said.

That certainly caught Beregond's attention. "Oh? What about?"

"Well…" Ed answered. "What we're going to do after we deal with Dante and the Homunculi."

The Gondorian's eyes reflected a knowing smile. "I think I can guess."

Al hummed his affirmation. "Wrath has Brother's body, while my body is still at the Gate. There has to be a way to get them back."

"Without the philosopher's stone?" Beregond asked.

"Yeah," Ed answered. "I've asked Scieszka to hand me a copy of an old alchemical book that we found in Major Armstrong's mansion. It's pretty hard to decipher, but I think we might find something useful there."

"And if you do?" Beregond asked, facing Ed once more.

"I'll fix my and Al's body," Ed said. "And then I won't have to be Roy's errand boy anymore."

"You'll quit?"

"It's time we came back here," Ed said.

"Oh, and we'll have to rebuild our house, Brother. Don't forget that," Al said.

"That too," Ed agreed. "And I bet you'll ask Winry out."

Al got positively mortified. "You… know about that?"

"Let's just say I got my confirmation now," Ed said in a tease. Indeed, he had suspected that something was going on between him and Winry, but it was Al's reaction that gave it all away.

Al's eyes grew large in realisation. The suit of armour started wringing his hands nervously. "You... aren't mad then?"

Ed tilted his head, amused. "What for, Al? If you love her, you should go for it," he said. "I doubt she'll reject you twice."

Al remained frozen for a while, then his eyes shone brilliantly, reflecting the smile he couldn't show. "Thanks, Brother."

Ed grinned, glad to see his brother so happy. He caught sight of Beregond from the corner of his eye, and he could see that the man was smiling too.

"See?" he declared to Al, pointing at the Gondorian with his thumb. "Even Beregond agrees with me."

Beregond blinked, surprised at that. Ed, however, was far from finished.

"And trust me, we'll be in need of his opinion for a long time."

"Really, Ed? You mean it?" Al asked.

Beregond stared at the young alchemist, the same question in his eyes. Ed hummed his affirmation, and stretched his hand forward.

Getting the message, both Al and Beregond placed their hands over Ed's sealing their agreement once more. Yet neither of the boys noticed the piece of paper that Beregond hid meticulously in his pocket with his other hand.

_TBC..._


	9. The Gate Of Truth

Dante stood in front of a large mirror, eyes scrutinising the reflection and correcting any small imperfections on her attire. Once her broach was straight and there were no wrinkles on the long old-fashioned dress she wore, she started fixing her hair and checking her makeup.

"How long do you plan on doing this?"

Dante looked at the mirror, catching sight of Envy standing on the threshold of the room, and she smiled.

"Why, till everything is perfect, of course," she replied, and she turned her attention back to her hair. "We're about to have an important guest, after all."

"You really think that he's going to come?" Envy asked, frowning. "He hardly showed his face to the rest of the world, much less to you and me!"

"I know how he thinks. You're aware of this better than anyone," Dante said. She reached for a small bottle with perfume that was on the table nearby and opened it to pour a couple of drops of the aromatic liquid on her neck. "Where are the others?"

"Sloth is taking care of the baby and the runt; one could say she's a natural," Envy answered with a smirk. "And, of course, Gluttony is still snivelling close to Lust, crouching on the wall you've nailed her on."

Dante huffed. "Gluttony has become too attached to her. I will have to rectify that."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Envy asked, crossing his arms.

Dante never got the chance to answer, because it was in that moment that a loud crash reverberated throughout the whole building. Envy flinched, yet Dante smiled knowingly.

"He's here."

Indeed, the angry voice of Hohenheim filled the air, and another crash made everything practically shake.

"Dante, you'd better come out here now!"

She did, but she certainly took her time. Walking with the air of a lady, she went down a flight of winding stairs and then entered the main hall. Hohenheim was already standing in the centre of the room, panting softly, surrounded by evidence of his violent entrance; the place was filled with debris and broken wooden beams. As for Gluttony, he had cowered even closer to Lust, who looked at the scene with eyes wide open.

"Ah… Hohenheim," Dante said almost sweetly. "To say that this is quite the surprise would be a lie."

"Then you know why I'm here," Hohenheim said, eyes burning with fury. He lifted his right hand, and several stony statues arose from the debris, prepared to attack. "I won't let you use my sons anymore!"

"My, my… such care. Strange, considering you have a habit of abandoning your offspring," Dante replied, hardly fazed.

Hohenheim said nothing. He simply waved his hand, and the statues started moving towards Dante's direction. Laughing, the woman connected her hands together, and the statues shattered to pieces. A rock rolled in Gluttony's direction, and he touched it in his childlike curiosity. However, he quickly recoiled, for the rock was hot to the touch.

Hohenheim wouldn't give up so easily though. He waved his hand again, and the ground shook violently underneath Dante's feet. This time, Dante transmuted a ball of fire from the candles on the chandelier above them, and Hohenheim had to sidestep before the red tongues scorched him.

Dante chuckled. "I see you're as strong as ever. But I'm afraid that your strength is about to reach its limits."

Hohenheim clenched his jaw. "You're right, my limit is near; but yours is as well," he said through gritted teeth. "You may hide yourself behind finery; but the smell of your perfume doesn't fool me."

With that, he waved his hand again. Dante flinched as the sharp wave of air cut her torso like a knife, tearing the dress and revealing what she had been meticulously hiding all this time: a patch of rotting flesh.

Lust stared at Dante incredulously, the sight stunning her. "What… What's the meaning of this?"

"This is your mistress' true form," Hohenheim answered, his eyes never leaving Dante's form. "That's what you've been serving all along."

Dante covered the patch with her hand, the ugly lines of anger smoothing away to an indulging smile. "Hohenheim… I've said it before and I'll say it again. We understand each other too perfectly." Her other hand reached her neck and caressed it in quite the suggestive manner. "And this body is willing to know you once more."

Hohenheim snorted. "I only loved one woman, Dante, and it wasn't you."

"Oh?" Dante clicked her tongue several times in disapproval. "That's not what you whispered in my ear four hundred years ago, when I was still an innocent child."

"That wasn't love," Hohenheim countered, though his resolve slowly ebbed away.

"Then what was it?" Dante asked. "Four hundred years ago, when we had finally reached our goal and created the philosopher's stone out of the lives that this city held in her bosom… when you were dying because of a rebound… Didn't I use the stone to transmute your soul to another body so I could save you?"

Hohenheim opened his mouth to speak, but Lust was faster.

"Are you saying that you had already created a philosopher's stone?" she exclaimed, aghast. "Then why did you have us search for someone else to create the philosopher's stone for you?"

"Because even a philosopher's stone has its limits," Dante answered. "I used up the last ounce of its power to get into this body, and I can't make another one anymore – not without the help of someone who's as powerful as Hohenheim." She faced the bespectacled man again, regarding him quite disappointedly. "Why, my love? Why did you leave after all I had done for you?"

Hohenheim sighed, his expression becoming melancholic.

"Dante… Death can't be defeated. Not even with a philosopher's stone."

* * *

"Everything seems to be quiet now," Roy commented. He was inside the train compartment with the Elric Brothers and Beregond, keeping his arms crossed and giving the impression that he was escorting his subordinates to Central under strict supervision. Indeed, even Riza, Havoc and the others took up strategic positions inside the train, just as it was expected of them whenever they were guarding an important sort of cargo.

"There's always calm before the tempest," Beregond said, sitting next to Al, who was gently rubbing the Gondorian's back in a comforting motion; some habits simply died hard.

"And that means?" Roy asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"It means you don't know our Teacher," Ed answered, grimacing.

The words barely left Ed's lips when the proverbial hell broke loose. Several gunshots filled the air, probably courtesy of Riza, and then the familiar light of an alchemical reaction brightened the compartment. At the next moment, two wooden fists hit Roy and Beregond on the jaw, knocking them out cold. Ed and Al looked out, already suspecting who was behind the attack, and froze in a frightened manner at the sight of Izumi approaching them. Al made a motion to turn around and run away, but bumped on Mr. Curtis instead.

"Brother…" Al all but squeaked.

Yet Ed couldn't do anything. And so, in a matter of seconds, Izumi and Mr. Curtis had dragged both brothers away. Only then did Roy and Beregond lift their heads again in order to assess the situation.

"She didn't even give me a chance to fight," Roy pointed out, rubbing the sore spot on the chin. He looked at Beregond, who had brought himself back to a sitting position. "At least the boys acted their parts well enough."

"That wasn't acting," Beregond replied with a wince, also rubbing the forming bruise on his cheek. "Considering she doesn't like the military, she probably enjoyed this too." He got back on his feet, shaking his head to rid himself of the last remnants of dizziness. "I should go after them."

"Wait."

Beregond faced Roy. "Sir?"

"Give them a good head-start first."

Beregond understood and stayed put, even though his body itched to rush forward. Finally, as soon as Roy deemed it was time and nodded his permission, the Gondorian ran off, very much like a hound in hot pursuit. Roy could only watch Beregond go, three words flowing out of his lips.

"Good luck, Sergeant."

* * *

Dante stared at Hohenheim, the grip on her side tightening. What the bespectacled man had told her shook her, and yet she still wasn't willing to believe him.

"My soul… is eroding?" she asked quietly.

Hohenheim sighed. "Yes. Each time that we transmute our souls into another body, a part of our soul is destroyed. Now, after so many transmutations, our souls no longer have the power to hold a body. If we attempt another jump, we'll die."

Dante clenched her jaw. "No… not if we have another philosopher's stone!"

Lust let out a snarl that belied her lady-like features. "So… you will use the philosopher's stone on yourself again!"

"Oh, don't act so surprised on me! Why do you think I gathered you all under my command in the first place?" Dante said impatiently. "I needed helpers, and you were the ones best fit for the job. Especially _her_."

As if on cue, Sloth walked down the flight of stairs and looked at Hohenheim, the baby in her arms. Hohenheim gasped and looked at the creature that resembled Trisha so much, and his hands started trembling violently.

"Tri…"

Dante smiled smugly, feeling that she had the upper hand once more. "It's nice to see your precious wife again, isn't it?" she asked almost sweetly.

"That's not her," Hohenheim murmured.

"No… But you still can't hurt her," Dante pointed out in a pleased tone. She took the baby from Sloth and started walking towards Hohenheim, her steps slow and full of purpose. "You know, Hohenheim… I have done some research of my own as well. I always wondered what was beyond the Gate that holds the Truth, even if there was a way to open it. It took me a while, but I found the answer. A part of the gate is within _us_. And, when the link between the mind, the body and the soul is weak, like in the case of an infant… or a resurrected man… you can even summon the gate."

Hohenheim bit his lower lip. "You… know about him."

"Oh yes, I do," Dante replied. "Care to see where he came from?"

At the next moment, she uncovered the baby, revealing his tummy. The baby cried out at the rough treatment, but Dante didn't care about that. She simply placed a hand on the small five-pointed star that she had drawn on the baby when she first took it from Rose, and activated the array. In a flash, everything was covered in blinding light that surrounded Hohenheim, and everyone had to look away, shutting their eyes.

By the time they opened their eyes again, Hohenheim was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Hohenheim opened his eyes, only to find himself in a place with no sense of direction, and a great Gate towering over him in all its mighty glory. He knew where he was; he had read about that place in almost every alchemical book in a time that he was young and naïve himself, when the notion of death feared him so much that he made it his life-long goal to avoid that fate. Now, however, he was ready to embrace it, for the burden of time weighed too heavily on his shoulders.

"Tri… We'll finally meet again. I'm sure you want to hear about your sons."

The terrible creaking sound as the Gate opened resonated everywhere, reverberating through him. He still watched on unwaveringly as the serpent-like black arms reached out for him.

"We don't have to worry about them. They have your blood in their veins."

With that, he let the guardians of the Gate carry him beyond the boundaries of his world.

* * *

"Y- you sent him there, didn't you?"

Dante turned to Wrath, almost amused. After all, it was quite interesting to see a powerful homunculus, however young he was, to speak so weakly and shake like a leaf.

"It's alright, Wrath," she said, her tone a mere mock of comfort. "You won't have to go back there anymore. Unless, of course, you disappoint me."

Wrath flinched and cowered in a corner, and Sloth had to rush to him and hold him soothingly in her arms. Dante curled her upper lip in distaste and covered the baby's tummy again.

"Sloth, I suggest you refrain from those motherly instincts of yours," she said. "That was your look alike's job only."

Sloth didn't listen though. She still held Wrath close, another thought crossing her mind.

"You said that the Gondorian could summon the Gate too. Is it true?"

Dante dusted an invisible stain from her dress. "Theoretically speaking. He's been in our world for only a year; the connection between his mind, his body and his soul is as weak as an infant's."

"It's the Gate's doing!" Wrath cried, practically in hysterics now. "It sent him here to do Its work!"

"Perhaps…" Dante said, an enigmatic smile on her features. She activated another array drawn on the wall, and Lust's bonds vanished at once. The female homunculus dropped on her feet in a weakened state, but Gluttony offered his support so that she could stand up.

"You still have work to do," the alchemist said coldly. "Pride is to bring the boys and the Gondorian in Central. You, Sloth and Wrath are to bring them here at once."

Lust snarled and extended two fingers, the sharp lance-like nails stopping from piercing Date's eyes at the last moment. "And why shouldn't I just kill you now?"

"Because your life is still mine," Dante answered, hardly fazed. "Once I get my hands on the philosopher's stone, I just might make you human as well. Can anyone else offer you a better deal than that?"

With that final word, she calmly turned around, the baby in her arms, and walked away. She didn't bother looking at the gleam of hatred reflected in Lust's eyes.


	10. The Beginning Of The End

Things in Central Headquarters were quite agitated, especially after the Brass heard news of the Fullmetal Alchemist's abduction. Not because they were all that concerned about the boy, mind you, but because his court-martial had to be delayed once more.

"I personally recommended that kid to become a State Alchemist!" General Hakuro cried amid all the voices that could be heard as the Brass took conference in the privacy of the main hall. "How could he have brought such shame to the military?"

_How indeed?_ Roy thought, yet he kept his expression neutral. He had been watching the conference for quite some time, listening to all the generals bickering amongst themselves as if somehow trying to win the favour of the Führer once more. As for Bradley himself, he was sitting at a separate desk almost motionless, his single eye betraying no emotion except for cold-blooded calculation. Roy was sure that that kind of display that his generals showed pleased the man to no end, even if he wasn't foolish to show such a thing.

"Are we sure that this child was connected to the insurrection in Liore?" another general asked.

"Well, according to this report," Lieutenant General Grumman said, "Edward Elric was there a year ago, and he exposed a fraud priest who was using alchemy to trick his followers. However, several reports claim that this same priest caused the rebellion in Liore."

"Yes," Roy intervened at that moment. "And, from the look of things, the citizens meant to rebel against the Amestrian military."

General Hakuro sat up at once in his seat and stared at Roy incredulously. "Are you criticising my actions in Liore?"

"Please, gentlemen," Bradley said, finally deciding to intervene. "Let's not forget of Colonel Mustang's exploits in both Ishbal and Liore. If anything, this man has proven his loyalty to the military."

The generals didn't say anything to that. They simply nodded, accepting the Führer's word. The Führer, however, was far from finished.

"Still, Colonel Mustang… I don't understand how you could allow such an unfortunate thing take place. And I'm honestly surprised that you only sent Sergeant Beregond in order to retrieve the Elric boys. This isn't a covert mission, is it?"

_He's suspecting something,_ was Roy's first thought, but he kept his head. "Sergeant Beregond's scouting abilities are unmatched. He can help Major Armstrong and his team to locate the Elric Brothers, as he has done before," he answered. He paused for a few moments to straighten his uniform, and then he boldly stood up. It was time to take things a step further. "However, it has also come under my attention something quite disturbing about your secretary, Colonel Juliette Douglas. I see she's not here."

"Indeed," Bradley replied coldly. "She requested a few days off, which I granted them to her."

"That's interesting… and inconvenient," Roy replied, "I wanted her to be present when I laid my accusations on her."

"Oh?" the Führer asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what kind of accusations are those?"

It was now or never. So Roy took the deep plunge.

"I have proof that shows that the military records concerning her person have been tampered with. I also have proof that she was directly involved in the attempted murder of Brigadier General Hughes."

That the news took all the people present by surprise would have been an understatement. A series of gasps filled the room and everyone started talking, trying to understand if Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, had actually gone mad.

"Yes, Brigadier General Hughes is alive," Roy insisted. "If you don't believe me, you may speak with the man himself."

At the next moment, Roy opened the doors to the hall and signalled to someone to come in. A man in a long trenchcoat and a mask walked inside, looking at Roy as if asking for some sort of permission. When Roy nodded, the man pulled out his mask; and everyone was taken aback to see Maes Hughes standing before them in the flesh. The only one who didn't seem shocked was Lieutenant General Grumman. In fact, he regarded Roy, the words he wanted to say reflected in his eyes.

_Well done, boy.

* * *

_

Havoc huffed a puff of smoke and got ready to toss the cigarette end away. Fuery, however, was faster and showed the second lieutenant the ashtray.

"There's a reason they made these," he said. "Use them."

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "Did Riza leave you in her place or something?"

Fuery glared at Havoc, not sharing the humour, so Havoc decided to relent for now. He took the ashtray and put out his cigarette in it.

"Hey, Falman… what time is it?" Breda asked at that moment.

Falman checked his watch. "Quarter past four."

"They should have been back by now," Havoc pointed out.

"Relax," Breda replied. "If anything bad had happened, we would have been put under arrest by now."

A soft whining sound came from the corner of the small room everyone was in, making everyone turn to that direction. Black Hayate was resting on the floor, his head resting on his front legs and with eyes reflecting his misery.

"Cheer up, Hayate," Fuery said, petting the dog affectionately. "Riza will be back."

The dog barked once, appreciating the gesture. Even so, he didn't seem any happier. That is, until he suddenly pricked up his ears, clearly picking up a set of familiar footsteps. At the next moment, he got on his feet and rushed to the door, barking and wagging his tail in abandon.

"Heh," Breda said with a small smile. "Annoying critter or not, he sure knows how to tell friend from foe."

Sure enough, the door opened to reveal Riza, followed closely behind by Roy and Maes. All three looked tired, yet there was still a strange gleam in their eyes; a gleam that burnt more brightly in Roy's coal-black gaze.

"I take it that it's done, then?" Breda asked, looking at the newcomers with a knowing wry smile.

Roy didn't answer, not in words at least. He simply nodded and motioned to take off his coat, but Riza proved faster.

"I'll take that," she said softly.

"So, what did the Brass say after seeing a dead man before them?" Havoc asked, locking his gaze on Maes.

The brigadier general chuckled wryly. "Some of them became so pale that they looked like ghosts," he said. "The Führer, on the other hand, smiled and declared that he was pleased to hear how the conspiracy has been finally unmasked."

Fuery swallowed hard. "Why does this give me the creeps?"

"Because it should," Roy answered, sitting down on one of the chairs with a heavy sigh. "He claimed that Juliette Douglas must have been the Drachmanian informant that was sent to infiltrate the military according to his latest info from his spy network. And that kind of audacity can only be answered in one way."

"What's that?" Falman asked apprehensively.

"War," Maes replied. "The Brass expects us to go up North as soon as enough forces are gathered."

Breda snorted in an almost contemptuous manner. "Nice. They hope to off us all there and blame it on the enemy fire."

"So what happens now? We're actually going there?" Fuery asked, his eyes wide like saucers.

"We can't disobey orders," Roy said. "But that doesn't mean we don't have one last card to play."

"Which is?"

At that moment, Black Hayate pricked up his ears once more, and started barking at the door. None of the people present in the room were alarmed, though; Hayate's bark was happy. It still made Havoc curious enough to open the door, allowing Armstrong step in, Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Bloch following closely behind. Roy chuckled, regarding the large man with an amused expression on his features.

"I have to say that your timing is perfect, Major," he said. I was just about to tell them about our plan."

Armstrong beamed. "The perfect sense of timing is an art handed down the Armstrong family for generations," he declared, and he sat down on the small couch nearby.

"I'm sure it is," Roy said, smirking, and then started telling everything about the dangerous plan everyone would have to see through.

* * *

Ed dared a peek around the corner, and watched the people go by through dark glasses. Everyone seemed to be focused on their business, talking idly about all sorts of things. But, frankly, the teen alchemist didn't care about that. He was mostly on the lookout for anyone who wore the familiar blue uniform that belonged to the military, as well as a certain building that served as an entrance to another world underground.

"Well, Brother? Do you see anything?" Al asked, standing beside Ed.

"No," Ed replied, and he turned to Beregond. "Are you sure this is the right way?"

"Positive," Beregond answered, "The church was one of the few buildings that were reconstructed again after the city that preceded Central sank."

"Yes," Izumi seconded. "According to Hohenheim's letters, it was an attempt for normalcy after everything that happened - to forget."

Al's flickering eyes widened in realisation. "That's right. If people forgot about what happened, then they would forget the danger of creating a philosopher's stone as well."

"And then, in time, there would be again alchemists who would try to create the philosopher's stone for themselves," Ed completed. "All Dante had to do was wait for the right moment."

Beregond bowed his head, a sickened expression etched on his features. Al placed a hand on the Gondorian's shoulder in concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," the man answered. "I just couldn't help thinking that that was probably what Dûrinas had in mind, too."

"Well, you stopped one crazy alchemist, we'll now stop another," Ed said, and beckoned everyone to follow him. "Come on, let's go."

"Now that is quite the surprise," a feminine voice said just then.

Everyone turned around to see with Lust, Sloth and Wrath standing just a couple of feet away from them, ready to attack if any of the alchemists tried to put up a fight. Ed clenched his jaw to see his mother's doppelganger with that sweet smile, a mocker of what he once loved; while Izumi clenched her hands into fists at the sight of the young boy that had the form of her son.

"Pride was supposed to have you captured. We were actually on our way to collect you," Sloth said again, taking a few steps forward. "You do know how to escape the military's clutches."

Ed, Al and Beregond gasped, for her words shook them to their very hearts. There was _another _homunculus that had infiltrated the military, but who was it? All three exchanged a glance, the thought crossing their minds almost simultaneously.

Bradley. It couldn't be anyone else. And so, the final piece of the puzzle that they had been trying to solve was added at last.

"I'm surprised to see you out here in the open," Ed said, gritting his teeth. "What's it gonna be? Are you going to pretend you're our mother again so we won't hurt you?"

Sloth chuckled. "Hardly. You're not my sons. But it would be to your best interest to come with us quietly."

"Brave words, Homunculus," Izumi declared, her voice icy-cold. "Pity I can't say the say thing about your companion."

Indeed, Wrath held up his alchemised spear with shaky hands, keeping his fearful eyes constantly on Beregond. It was as if he was expecting the Gondorian to lunge at him at any second.

"What's the matter?" Izumi asked Wrath relentlessly. "Does he wake up too many memories from the Gate?"

"Shut up," Wrath snapped, but his voice was painfully strained.

"It must have been a frightening place. Why else would you want to escape from it so badly that you stole another boy's limbs?" Izumi continued on, hardly fazed. "But you also know that the Gate isn't forgiving."

"I said shut up!" Wrath turned to Lust, eyes glazing in panic. "Kill him! We have the others; we don't need him!"

Lust looked at Beregond, and then smiled cruelly. "But why, Wrath? Dante has been telling us all along not to harm any powerful alchemists."

"I SAID KILL HIM!" Wrath was now almost beside himself in a state of panic, shaking violently and with legs about to give way underneath him.

"You're not in a position to give orders," Lust replied in contempt.

"But _I _am," Sloth said, facing the other female homunculus. "We already have three powerful alchemists; we can always claim that this one resisted."

"She'll never believe that," Lust said, waving her hand dismissively; then glared at Sloth. "You can always kill him yourself, you know. Or are you just as afraid of him as the runt you mother so lovingly?"

Sloth clenched her jaw, her anger evident on her features. "Do as I say," she commanded, her tone expressionless. "We don't need him. Have I made myself clear?"

Lust pursed her lips for a brief moment, then nodded slowly. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she stepped closer to the Gondorian, while Beregond looked at her with eerie calmness, even as her nails extended for the kill.

But Beregond didn't move. He even grabbed Ed by the arm the moment that he sensed the teen alchemist shifting, ready to attack the female homunculus; for he had seen something in Lust's eyes that was different from the last few times they had met. He had to trust his instincts now, and hope that they didn't fail him this time.

Just when things looked most dire, Lust spun around and launched her nails at Sloth and Wrath. Only their quick reflexes saved the other two homunculi, for Sloth liquefied herself and Wrath transmuted a wall, serving as a safety barrier. Lust retracted her nails and got ready to attack again, but Sloth and Wrath ran off at once, practically disappearing.

Ed, Al, Izumi and Mr. Curtis regarded Lust sceptically at that display, but she didn't acknowledge them at once. She simply retracted her nails with a shake of her head, then finally faced them.

"That was noble of you," Ed said, unable to hide the sarcasm from his voice. "What gives? You don't like their company anymore?"

Lust snorted. "Let's just say that I'm tired of being used. But we should hurry. Though they didn't expect this, they won't be taken by surprise twice."

"There's no 'we'," Izumi declared, eyes reflecting her wariness. "I'm not willing to trust anyone who was about to create the philosopher's stone for the sake of a delusional woman."

"I'm not asking you to," Lust replied. "Whether you like it or not, however, I know their strengths and weaknesses. You need me to fight them."

"But… We'll be fighting your own allies!" Al exclaimed in disbelief.

"Then so be it," she said, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. "We should go."

"What about-?" Ed started.

"Ed, it's fine. I can always keep an eye on her while you focus on Sloth and Wrath," Beregond said then.

Ed scrunched his face to a frown as he tried to figure out what they should do next. In the end, however, he made up his mind.

"Fine." He transmuted his automail arm into a blade and regarded Izumi. "Should we split up?"

Izumi nodded. "It will be easier that way."

"Alright," Ed said. "So… Al and I will take the left side, you and Mr. Curtis can take the right side, while Beregond and Lust can serve as our eyes from above. Does that work with you?"

Everyone nodded their agreement, and they each went their separate ways. Beregond beckoned Lust to follow him, and she obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

"This should work nicely," Beregond answered, pointing at a ladder which led to the rooftops. He motioned his hand, looking at the female homunculus. "Ladies first."

Lust regarded Beregond, raising an eyebrow. "Your sense of chivalry is disturbing," she noted; nevertheless, she started climbing up the ladder.

"I could probably say the same about your change of heart," Beregond retorted, following her.

"I've already told you-"

"You were aware that you worked for someone else, and yet you didn't have a problem until now," Beregond said. "So what's the real reason you decided to stand up to Dante?"

Lust sighed and continued climbing up. "There's no fooling you, is there, Gondorian?"

Beregond didn't answer, encouraging her to speak.

"I still want to become human, don't get me wrong," Lust said. "But I remembered your words back at Liore, and I realised something important."

"And that is?" Beregond asked.

Lust looked down at him, actually smiling.

"Your solution is simpler."

_TBC…_


	11. Striking Back

Havoc locked his gaze on the small mirror in front of him, straightening invisible wrinkles on his uniform. However, his motions were slow, almost absentminded, and he didn't really pay attention to his surroundings. That is, until the sound of someone clearing their throat made him turn around. Riza stood on the threshold of the room, looking at Havoc with a soft, albeit unreadable expression. She was out of her uniform and dressed in a pair of trousers and a shirt, part of the disguise she had to wear according to Roy's plan.

Havoc shifted on his legs in uncertainty, but she simply walked up to him and examined the straps that held his guns.

"You should be checking these instead of your uniform," she said in a slightly disapproving tone. "You have two lives to protect."

"I know," Havoc said.

"Now remember," Riza continued, "As long as no one gets close enough, they won't realise the trick we're trying to play on them."

"I'll keep everyone at a distance," Havoc promised. "If you don't trust me, trust Breda, Fuery and Falman. They'll do their part of their job just as well."

"I know."

The words were barely audible, and it made Havoc more than just a little nervous. Riza Hawkeye always served as the voice of reason and logic within the team. This time, though, Havoc could tell that the woman had mustered all of her courage, and she was at the limits of her strength.

"Riza?"

The woman looked up from the straps. "Yes?"

"How are Ross and Bloch?"

She pursed her lips for a moment. "They're doing fine. Bloch kept stuttering at first, but Ross found a way of silencing him."

"Yeah?" Havoc said, intrigued. "What did she do?"

Riza finally smiled, a tinge of colour appearing on her lips. "She kissed him."

Havoc blinked. "You're kidding."

"Really, Havoc… have you ever heard me kidding before?"

That was only too true, Havoc had to admit.

"So, as you can see… you have one more reason to protect them," Riza said. "You understand that better than anyone else."

"Not just me," Havoc replied, this time, locking his gaze on Riza's eyes.

Riza's cheeks actually reddened more, and she averted her eyes. But Havoc spared her from further embarrassment. He stood in attention and saluted in respect – a gesture of goodbye.

"Look after yourself, 1st Lieutenant."

Riza remembered herself, and she stood in attention as well. "Likewise, 2nd Lieutenant."

With that, she walked out, concealing her hair under a brown cap. Roy was expecting her.

* * *

Ed and Al still walked on, staying alert for anything out of the ordinary. Though the sun was quickly setting and the streets were swiftly getting covered in darkness, neither of the boys intended to slow down. It was time to correct their mistake, and that was precisely what they intended to do.

"No other people in sight," Ed commented in whisper. "I guess that works to our advantage."

"Yeah," Al replied.

That tone was quite off, and it made Ed face the suit of armour. "What's wrong, Al?"

Al's red eyes dimmed slightly. "Are you sure that she's not Mom? I don't want to feel that we'll be killing her again."

Ed supposed he should have expected it that. He felt exactly the same way when he had seen Sloth back in Liore. But he also knew that those kind of thoughts wouldn't help them with their cause.

"It's not her, Al," he said. "As long as you remember that, you'll do fine. Okay?"

Al didn't answer at once. But, finally he nodded slowly. "Okay."

The boys continued on in silence, but Al broke the spell once more.

"Don't you think we should have found her by now? She couldn't have got all that far away."

Ed smirked wryly. "Don't worry, Al. I've got the feeling that she hasn't."

As if someone wanted to prove Ed's words correct, one of the water pipes over the boys' heads broke, and a great gush of running water sprang out, about to fall on them.

"Brother!" Al pushed Ed away in the nick of time, and he took the hit instead. At the next moment, Sloth let out a cry of dismay and tried to get out of the armour, but it wasn't possible. She solidified inside Al and remained there, unable to move.

Ed got back on his feet, dusting some dirt from his sleeves. "You okay, Al?"

"I think so," Al answered.

"What is the meaning of this? What have you done?" Sloth asked

"Consider it payback for making me freeze back in Liore," Ed replied coolly. "The big difference is that you have been paralysed by the remains of the person which you resemble. At times like these, it's quite convenient when your brother is an empty suit of armour."

"You mean…? He has…?"

"They're inside his leg," Ed replied. "Al, take her out. Slowly."

Al complied, making sure that he removed the female homunculus and his mother's remains at the same time. Sloth collapsed on the ground, and she looked at Ed with sorrowful eyes.

"Why do you want to hurt me, Edward?"

Ed felt anger boiling in his veins. "Why?" he echoed. "I lost two of my limbs and Al lost his whole body so that we could have our Mom back. Instead of her, we got _you_. A monster who would stop at nothing to use us for the creation of the philosopher's stone, and who was ready to sacrifice thousands of lives for that very reason; someone who ordered the death of a good man, whose only fault was that he wanted to protect his wife and daughter! And you dare ask 'why'?"

"I just wanted to become human!" she said.

"You don't even know what it means to be human! Otherwise you would understand the kind of nightmare that you have put us through in the last five years!" Ed snapped.

"I still have the face of your mother," she whispered in a hurt tone.

"Funny… You said we weren't your sons," Ed replied. "Are you ready to die now?"

"Brother, look out!"

Al's warning came too late. The sound of a machine gun being fired reverberated through the area. Al crouched as the rain of bullets kept pounding at him mercilessly, while Ed had no choice but to take cover behind an alchemised wall.

"Step away from her!" Wrath cried, stepping out and holding up his arm, or at least where it used to. The machine had taken its place.

"You're only postponing the inevitable, Wrath!" Ed cried back. "I suggest you try and save yourself!"

"Never!"

Ed frowned at those words. It looked like Sloth denied herself from the ones who could have been her sons to become a mother to Wrath. Wrath, on the other hand, despised his own creator and found the mother he had been looking for in the face of Sloth. Could that actually be an attempt for the two homunculi to reach the humanity that they had been craving?

At the next moment, Ed clenched his automail hand into a fist. No matter what reasons those two homunculi had, they were still prepared to hurt others to accomplish their goals. Ed couldn't allow that. With that thought in mid, Ed clapped his hands, and planted his hands on the ground.

The light of the alchemical reaction lit up the area, but Wrath was ready. When the rocky fists came onto him, he simply punched them and shattered them as if they were nothing, using his own alchemical power. Al, however, clapped his hands too and placed his hands on the broken water pipe above him, transmuting it into a lance which he pointed at Wrath.

"Al?" Ed asked, not really understanding.

"See to Sloth. I'll take care of Wrath," Al declared.

"You can't do it by yourself!" the teen alchemist exclaimed.

"Then hurry up!" Al said, and he lunged at the homunculus.

Ed didn't have to be told twice. As the suit of armour and Wrath locked themselves in combat, he started sketching the array on the ground around Sloth's body. She trembled violently, trying to fight her paralysis, but it was of no use; the box with Trisha's remains was still next to her. When Ed activated the array and the light of the alchemical reaction surrounded her, there was nothing she could do but purge out the red stones that sustained her. After that, it was all but too easy for Ed to ran his blade through the homunculus and thus end her life.

"NO!" Wrath screamed. In the next moment, he alchemised Al's feet with the ground, gluing the suit of armour on the spot, and started shooting at Ed again. Ed jumped aside before any of the bullets hit him, and Wrath saw his chance to run at Sloth's side. Just as he was about to drag the dead homunculus to safety, however, he was trapped by five lance-like fingers. He looked up, growling in dismay, for he knew who could have done this.

"You have no idea how much pleasure this gives me, Wrath," Lust said, smirking. Indeed, she was standing at the top of the building that towered over the young homunculus, the fingers of her right hand elongated and forming Wrath's cage.

Wrath lunged forward in an attempt to run through the lances, but he merely crashed himself against them. Crying in frustration, he lunged a second time, then a third; but Lust's fingers wouldn't budge.

"Why?" He finally cried at her. "Do you think that they'll make you human just because you helped them?"

"Hardly. But at least they never pretended they would," Lust answered.

"Teacher," Ed said at that moment, looking to his left. Indeed, Izumi and Sig had appeared on the scene as well, and the woman's face was almost stony as she walked up to Wrath. Sig clasped a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of support, but Izumi didn't notice it; she was too focused on the young homunculus.

"Such anger," she said in a thoughtful tone. "I suppose it is fitting. I was angry with myself for losing that first time. Or rather, the child you were based on." She shook her head. "Then I got angry with myself when I realised I was nothing but a fool thinking that I could bring you back."

Wrath glared at Izumi, his eyes filled with hatred. "Spare me your sympathy. I'd rather you just kill me."

"That would be a mercy," Izumi replied. "But I'm afraid I can't. There's nothing in this world that can destroy you."

Wrath smirked, falsely thinking that he was safe. But the cruel smile vanished from his lips when Beregond came into view, standing next to Lust.

"No… no…" The young homunculus cowered, making himself as small as possible. "Get him away from me! Don't let him take me back there!"

Ed frowned at those words. "Send you where?" he wondered aloud.

"Back to the Gate," Lust answered. She shook her head when the alchemists looked back at her incredulously. "I see. You don't know then."

"Know what?" Izumi said.

Lust pointed at Beregond. "Dante thinks that the Gondorian can summon the Gate at will."

Al gasped, whereas Beregond staggered a step back, mouth agape. Ed, however, snorted.

"What is this? Some kind of joke?"

"No joke, Fullmetal boy," Lust said. "And if you don't believe me, just look at _his _face."

Ed did, and saw the terror in the homunculi's face. Wrath certainly believed Beregond could do that, something that had him thinking hard. Was it possible that Dante was correct?

"Wrath may believe it," Beregond said, practically echoing Ed's thoughts. "But if that were true, why haven't I been able to summon it before?"

"Beregond… you already have."

The Gondorian stared at Al, for it was the suit of armour who had said that. Al was far from finished, though.

"You opened it… when you tried to save Bergil."

Only then did Beregond finally understand. He opened his jacket and shirt, then pulled out the pendant, which glistened brightly under the sunlight.

Lust locked her gaze on the five-pointed star etched on the golden piece of metal. "That's the same array Dante used to call the Gate herself."

"Then you were telling the truth," Izumi noted before turning to Beregond. "Please, give me the pendant."

"Izumi?" Sig said, frowning.

"If there's nothing that can destroy Wrath in this world, then let it be something from the world beyond the Gate. And if there's anyone who should do that, is the one responsible for his creation," Izumi reasoned, aware of her husband's possible objections. "Mr. Beregond… The pendant."

Beregond remained hesitant for a few moments, clearly torn. In the end, though, he removed the pendant from his neck and tossed it to Izumi. The woman grabbed it with agile fingers; then placed it around her neck. Wrath watched her, looking on as if he had been frozen in place and resembling a strange statue.

It was an almost pitiable sight, but Izumi was determined to end this once and for all, just like Ed had. Closing her eyes, she clapped her hands, and the pendant emanated a red light that swiftly surrounded Wrath.

Wrath screamed, yet even that sound was cut short as the boy vanished. When the young homunculus opened his eyes again, he found himself in the timeless void where the Gate dominated everything with its presence. His legs almost gave way underneath him in sheer fright; but, when the door opened with a loud groan, Wrath did the only thing he _could _do: run away as fast as his feet could carry him.

It was in vain. The serpent-like hands of the Gate grabbed hold of the homunculus and wrapped themselves around his body and limbs. Voices whispered close to his ear, telling him that it was time for him to pay for trying to cheat the Truth.

And then there was nothingness again.

Lust retracted her fingers, and Izumi regarded the huddled form closely. Wrath was back from the Gate, yet he was irreversibly broken. His right arm and left leg were gone, and he was in a pool of his own blood.

"Though cruel, the Truth is nothing less than fair," she noted with a sigh. As Wrath remained in place, unable to move anymore, she completed the array that would force the homunculus to purge out the red stones. "It will be quick," she promised.

But Wrath said nothing, merely accepting his fate in defeat.


	12. Human

The sun was almost at its journey's end, creeping slowly behind the tall buildings of Central while bathing them in rich colours of crimson and gold. Havoc had to admit that it was a beautiful sight, although he couldn't really enjoy it; he was consumed by far darker thoughts.

"Hey, Havoc," Breda said, cutting into Havoc's musings. "Look sharp."

Havoc nodded his acknowledgement. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, making sure the flame went out, then turned on his heel to follow Breda towards the entrance of the train station. Falman and Fuery were already inside the facility, standing close to the train that was meant to carry them to Drachma, and they certainly weren't alone. Most of the station was filled with soldiers who would be sent to the frontlines, and they were currently saying goodbye to their family and friends. Almost everyone was oblivious to their surroundings.

It was just as well. If they had paid attention, they would have noticed that there was something strange about Mustang's unit – the Flame Alchemist and 1st Lieutenant Hawkeye especially.

"I don't like this, Lieutenant Ross," 'Riza' said in a low tone, clearly agitated. "I don't like this at all."

"We're both following orders, Sergeant Bloch," 'Mustang' replied, trying to sound calm. "Don't back out now."

"I didn't think following orders included getting dressed as a woman," Bloch muttered.

"Be grateful that you didn't have to wear a miniskirt," Ross retorted.

Bloch choked.

"It would be better if you didn't address each other with your real names and rank," Havoc said, overhearing the conversation. He paused, thinking about it for a few moments. "In fact, it would be best if you didn't speak _at all_."

Ross and Bloch turned crimson, for they realised how off their voiced were for the parts they were meant to play, and nodded. With that settled, Havoc turned his attention to Falman and Fuery.

"How are you guys holding up?"

"In all honesty?" Falman said, "I've been better."

"Same here," Fuery replied truthfully. "I wish we didn't have to go."

"Mustang was adamant about this, Fuery," Breda replied, crossing his arms. "He and Riza are on their own now."

Fuery sighed and straightened his glasses. "Let's hope that this works, then."

Havoc opened his mouth to speak, but, in that moment, the familiar whistle signified that it was time for the soldiers to get on board the train. Everyone in the unit exchanged a glance, then started climbing up the stairs. Havoc cast one last glance at his surroundings, looking for a face that he knew wasn't there, and he grasped the bar.

Long fingers clasped over his, almost startling the man. He looked up, and his heart practically missed a beat at the sight of Sarah. She was really in front of him, with an almost apologetic smile on her lips and slightly panting; she had obviously been running. Even her hair was down, free from the usual ponytail.

One thought after another clashed in Havoc's mind as he got torn between joy and anxiety. If anyone saw them together… If anyone made the connection…

"Where is Alice?" was the first thing that he managed to blurt out, still confused.

"With Gracia. Safe," she answered simply.

Havoc tried to find the appropriate words to reason with her, to have her understand that she shouldn't be here. However, he now knew that, in spite of all the dangers and risks… she had still come for him.

_Damn it all to hell._ Barely registering what he was doing, he took Sarah in his arms and sealed their lips together. Time almost stopped as he still held on to her as if she was a lifesaver and, for a few moments, nothing else mattered anymore.

Yet the kiss had to end, much to Havoc's regret. He finally pulled back and, after resting his forehead against Sarah's in a brief gesture of love, he turned on his heel and climbed aboard the train.

In less than five minutes, the train started its journey, separating the two lovers once more. Havoc sat in his seat with a sigh, hardly acknowledging the others, and hoping that the next time he would meet Sarah, it would be forever. For he would ask her to marry him.

Sarah watched the train go, the wet sensation of Jean's kiss lingering on her lips. Her heart beat fast against her chest, though she wasn't sure if it was because of fright for the man that she loved or relief to see him still well, still _alive_… or even because of the way he held her in his arms, as if in a silent promise that he would always be hers.

It was a promise that War made impossible to keep; but Sarah believed nonetheless. It was one of the reasons that she didn't regret coming to the station, even though she was aware of all the dangers behind that action. Besides, if what Riza told her was right, there was no more use in hiding anymore.

Remembering herself, Sarah walked out of the station and turned to the left, towards a narrow alley. Just as she had expected, the same black car that had brought her to the station so she could see Havoc off was there, and Sarah managed to discern the familiar long fair hair and brown eyes under a dark cap in the driver's seat. Sarah stopped, and waited for the _second_ occupant of the car to step out.

Sure enough, the door at the back seat opened, revealing the tall form of Roy Mustang. Sarah had to admit that the man looked different in civilian clothes and a black fedora hat. Nevertheless, he still moved with the commanding air of an officer, the flame of determination burning brightly in his coal-black eyes.

Roy stopped, regarding Sarah closely. "Well?"

"It's done," Sarah said. "The train has left on schedule."

Roy nodded once, taking in what Sarah told him. "How was everyone?"

"Nervous, but braving the situation out."

"Faithful to the end," Roy said softly, almost with fondness. However, even that moment in which Roy allowed himself to drop the mask of authority was gone in a flash. "You did well, Mrs. Abbot. Thank you."

Sarah accepted Roy's thanks with grace, yet she knew that that was also Roy's way of saying goodbye before seeing to his own task at hand. Still, she didn't want to let go before she made sure that she had done her part at the fullest.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

Roy raised an eyebrow, certainly surprised. He pursed his lips momentarily, as if pondering on matters, and he stepped closer.

"Only this: Go home, lock the door and keep the radio on at all hours." He reached for one of his pockets on his suit and held up a silver-hued gun. "Do you know how to use this?"

"Well enough," Sarah replied truthfully; her late husband had taught her so she could defend herself.

"Then take it," Roy said, extending his hand. "You might need it before this is over."

Sarah actually hesitated for a few moments, the sight of the gun making her nervous. In the end though, she relented and put the gun carefully in her purse.

"I understand. Good luck, Colonel."

"Good luck to both of us, Mrs. Abbot," Roy answered, and he headed towards the car.

It was time to face a Führer.

* * *

Beregond remained as though rooted on the spot, looking at the red mess that used to be Wrath. Indeed, there was nothing left that resembled the young homunculus anymore; it was as if the whole body had melted away. The Gondorian couldn't help but feel slightly disturbed, even though Izumi had indeed been merciful enough to make Wrath's end swift.

Considering how he had to fight inhuman creatures such as Orcs and Uruk-Hai, he considered those sentiments quite ironic. Then again, he had to deal with more death and violence in a year on Amestris than he had in the forty years he'd spent on Middle-earth. Although he didn't want to admit it to the boys or himself, he was growing tired of it. Too tired.

He shook his head. There were other, more important things at hand, and brooding was certainly not one of them. He walked up to Ed and Al, who were standing a couple of feet further away, staring at another red mess – Sloth.

"You alright?" the man asked, though it was probably a foolish question. He could see Ed's features etched in a dejected expression, while both his hands, automail and flesh alike, were clenched into fists. Even Al was quiet, barely acknowledging his surroundings.

It was Ed who finally answered. Schooling his features to a mask of indifference, he shrugged a bit and kicked an invisible stone. "I've been better," he murmured.

Beregond sighed. "Yes, I know what you mean."

Ed looked at the man, a frown creasing his features. "Do you?"

Al regarded Beregond just as curiously, the same question reflected in his eyes. Beregond's lips tugged to a small smile.

"I was a year younger than you and Faramir was thirteen when it happened," he said. "Minas Tirith was at war with the Orcs, and we had foolishly followed the army. While we were out in the open, an Orc attacked us… and we killed him." He paused, his mind's eye replaying the memory like it was only yesterday. "After all these years, I still remember his warm blood trickling down my hands and his dead gaze locked on me. I even remember the numbness that coursed through my veins once the whole thing was over."

"How did you deal with it?" Al asked, his voice weak and strained.

"I rationalised it," Beregond answered. "I had shown no mercy to the Orc, because he hadn't intended to show _me_ any. I wanted to protect myself, and I wanted to protect Faramir. In other words, it was either him or us."

"Did it work?" Ed asked.

"Yes… But only in time," Beregond answered truthfully. "Life is still precious, no matter whose life it is. You know this better than anyone. That's why I know you'll be fine."

Neither Ed nor Alphonse said anything this time, but Beregond could tell that they had accepted his advice; they seemed more relaxed, even relieved.

"How's Teacher, by the way?" the teen alchemist asked.

Beregond motioned his hand, showing the boys Izumi's whereabouts. The woman was sitting on the sidewalk, wiping some blood from her mouth with the back of her hand before Sig could give her a kerchief. Lust, on the other hand, stood a little further away, looking at the scene with interest.

"She's trying to recover. This whole ordeal was too much for her body to handle," Beregond answered. "And yet I don't think I've ever met a woman with her strength."

"Yeah," Ed said, allowing himself the luxury of a brief smile. "Teacher is one of a kind."

"I CAN HEAR YOU, YOU KNOW!" Izumi snapped at that moment, practically out of the blue. "I SUGGEST YOU GET OVER HERE INSTEAD OF STANDING OVER THERE, GOSSIPING LIKE SCHOOLGIRLS!"

"Sorry, Teacher!" Ed and Al exclaimed, hurrying at Izumi's side as fast as their feet could carry them. Beregond chuckled mentally, thinking that some things would never change, and he approached as well. The last thing he wanted was to face Izumi's ire.

"Good," Izumi said, once everyone was gathered around. She attempted to stand up, but her legs gave way underneath her. If it weren't for Sig, she would have collapsed on the floor for sure.

"Izumi…"

"I'm fine," she whispered, and she willed herself to stand up again. This time, she managed to stay up, although everyone noticed the pallid colour on her cheeks. Sighing, she ran her hand through her hair and she regarded Ed and Al closely. "As you can probably understand, I can't follow you anymore. You must continue on your own. Find Dante and make sure she hurts no one else anymore."

"We will," Ed said.

However, Izumi was far from finished. She took out of her pocket Beregond's pendant and handed it back to its rightful owner.

"Ed's limbs and Al's body are still at the Gate. You know what to do."

"Yes," Beregond answered, closing his fingers around the golden item.

Izumi smiled a bit and patted Beregond on the shoulder before turning to Lust. "How many more of you are left?"

"Besides me?" Lust said. "Three more: Envy, Gluttony and Pride. But Pride is at his home."

"What about Greed?" Al asked, confused.

Lust smirked. "He was too troublesome. Dante has already dealt with him."

"That works to our advantage," Ed mused aloud, and he looked at Lust. "You coming?"

"I'd rather I didn't. I've had my revenge on Dante," the female homunculus said. "But, before I go, I want to speak with the Gondorian. In private."

Beregond hadn't expected that sort of request, and he didn't know what to make of it. He cast a brief glance at Ed and Al, who nodded in agreement. They obviously figured they could indulge her since she helped them out. Making up his mind, Beregond took a step forward and motioned with his hand to his right, where the alley was much darker.

"Lead the way," he said, his eyes never leaving the female homunculus.

Lust shook her head at witnessing another gesture of chivalry from his part; nevertheless she went ahead. In a matter of moments, they had turned around the corner and out of sigh, so they were able to talk freely.

"Well? What did you want to tell me?" Beregond asked, not hiding the hard tone from his voice.

She chuckled softly. "Relax, Gondorian. I don't plan on killing you… although it _would _be quite the golden opportunity." She pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear. "I actually want to ask a favour of you."

"And what would that be?" the man asked. A part of him had revolted at the idea that Lust would ask of _him _a favour, after all their previous encounters. However, he also felt that Lust was sincere with her request, so he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and listen to what she had to say.

Her long, elegant fingers pointed at the ouroboros on her chest.

"This tattoo… Dante always said that it was a symbol of eternity; that there's no beginning and there's no end. But _I _believe that the snake bites the tail because it is in our beginning that we meet our end." She looked up at him, her violet gaze locking on his green-hazel ones. "Where did I come from and where will I go when I die? All this time that is what I wanted. The freedom to find out."

Beregond tensed, a suspicion crawling up his spin. "You think I can make you human?"

"No. But you can make me as close to one as I can be," she retorted. "You saw what happened to Sloth and Wrath when they threw up their stones, didn't you? They became weak and frail, easy to kill… very much like a human."

Beregond finally understood what she wanted from him. "Are you sure of this?"

She nodded. Even so, Beregond couldn't help but wonder at her decision.

"Why me?" he asked.

A small, almost sweet smile crossed her features. "Because I know you won't be cruel enough to refuse," she answered.

"It won't be pleasant," he warned her, making sure that she was aware of all the implications of her venture.

"I can take it," she said, and she boldly took hold of one of Beregond's hands to place it on her stomach. "Please."

Beregond's first impulse was to pull away. But, when he saw the pleading expression in her eyes, he realised that he couldn't. This creature, this homunculus, who could have sliced him in a heartbeat if she desired it, had cast aside her pride and placed herself in his hands, driven by a single dream. He swallowed hard, torn for a moment; then closed his eyes, hoping that he was doing the right thing.

She convulsed at once. A cry of pain threatened to rush out of her lips, but she bit it back before she doubled over. Beregond instinctively wrapped his arms around her, offering his support as she started to heave violently.

"Don't fight it," he said. "Just let it happen."

Lust did, and she finally spilled out the first stones. She heaved again, and then a third time, until she coughed everything out and she was nothing more than a trembling mess. She attempted to stand up, but her legs buckled underneath her.

"Easy. Don't force yourself."

Lust, however, didn't pay heed to him this time. Clenching her jaw, she pushed herself back on her feet and remained standing, regarding Beregond through faded blue eyes.

"Is it done?" she said, her voice slowly returning to her former strength. She extended one of her fingers and she scratched her palm, flinching at the pain. Blood trickled down her hand, yet neither she nor Beregond noticed it. They were too focused on the scratch itself, for it had stayed open.

"Yes, it is," Beregond said, and he took out his handkerchief in order to wrap it around Lust's wound. "How are you feeling?"

"It hurts," she replied candidly. "But I'm relieved as well."

"Because the pain reminds you you're alive," Beregond said as he tied up the handkerchief in a secure knot. "What will you do now?"

She shrugged. "I'll try to fit in. Who knows… I might actually succeed."

"I think you will," Beregond said sincerely, and he took a step back. "Goodbye, Lust."

And with that, he turned on his heel, ready to walk away.

"Beregond."

He stopped, surprised to hear his name from her lips. He faced her, regarding her curiously.

"You have already died once, haven't you?"

Beregond stiffened before realising it. He knew he could have just walked away without answering something so personal but… another part of him decided that there was nothing to lose.

"Yes."

"What's it like?"

He frowned, and his gaze locked on the ground. "It hurts," he said softly. "Your eyes are almost blinded; your body feels like it's torn to pieces; while your heart shatters." He pursed his lips for a brief moment, shifting his weight. "But then everything comes to a halt, and it becomes quiet. And then… as you're taken… you don't have to fear anything anymore because… because you know you're going home."

Lust didn't reply at once, taking in everything that the man told her, and she finally looked at him in gratitude. "Thank you."

Beregond merely nodded, and he started walking away.

"Beregond? Dante is waiting for you and the boys. Don't think she won't be prepared," she cried at the last moment.

He paused, a sign that he acknowledged her words; then he simply continued on without looking back, heading towards Ed and Al.


	13. One Chance

Roy took another sip of his bourbon without a word. He had been in the _Green Dragon_ for some time, keeping his head bowed and giving the impression that he wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings. However, he was in fact fully alert, waiting patiently for the bartender to give him what the disguised colonel had come here for in the first place.

Finally, a series of footfalls made him look up, locking his gaze on the bartender.

"Do you have it?" he asked at once.

"Yeah, I do," the bartender replied, handing Roy a small piece of paper. "Where's the money?"

"Right here," Roy said, tossing an envelope that he dug out from one of the inner pockets on his jacket. "And there's also an extra something for your trouble."

The bartender raised an eyebrow, and he picked up the envelope in order to check its contents. He let out a small whistling sound from his lips.

"Heh. You're one generous man," he commented. "It almost makes me wonder why you want to break into the Führer's house."

Roy frowned, and the bartender raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"I said almost," he pointed out.

That, Roy supposed, had settled matters. He held up the piece of paper. "So this is an exact blueprint of his house?"

"Down to the last nail on the walls," the bartender replied. "I never hand out bad goods."

"I'll take your words for it. The bourbon is certainly good," Roy said, and he picked up his fedora hat. "Thank you for your time."

"Sure thing," the bartender said, securing the envelope in a small secret drawer. "Come back if you've got another job for me."

Roy didn't answer; he just waved once in goodbye and exited the Green Dragon. He smiled when he looked at the time in his watch but, deep down, his heart was actually racing.

If everything went according to schedule, Maes and Armstrong should be making their move… now.

* * *

Maes and Armstrong walked down the street, keeping alert at all times and with their guns buckled at their side. As soon as they found the house they had been looking for, they walked straight to it, aware that the man they wanted to speak to was already inside; the light of the house was on.

"Let me do the talking," Maes said, and Armstrong nodded his understanding. While the major kept his eyes on their surroundings in case of unwelcome surprises, the brigadier general walked up to the doorstep and knocked. Maes kept his motions calm, almost reserved, even though he knew that he was about to do something very crazy.

The door opened, revealing a short man in his late sixties standing at the threshold. The man blinked a couple of times in mild surprise, then straightened his glasses nervously.

"Uh… may I help you?"

"Mr. Chairman, I'm Brigadier General Maes Hughes, and I want to file accusations to a superior officer within the army."

The chairman frowned. "That's a strange request. These sort of accusations are usually handled by the Führer himself."

Hughes felt his heart hammering in chest. It was now or never.

"The superior officer that I wish to lay accusations against is the Führer King Bradley."

Hughes was sure that he heard the chairman let out a small squeak of shock.

"Are you serious? You want to accuse the Führer?" The short man exclaimed incredulously. "That is unheard of!"

"I wouldn't oppose him if I didn't already have legitimate reasons to follow that path," Hughes answered, keeping his expression unreadable.

"I… see," the chairman murmured, almost overwhelmed at such news. "I do hope you have evidence to support your accusations though."

Hughes dug out several papers out of his pocket and held them up so that the chairman could see them.

"I'm sure you'll find these quite enlightening," he said. "May the major and I step inside?"

The chairman swallowed hard; nevertheless he beckoned both men inside the house.

* * *

Dante sat at her boudoir, applying her makeup in slow, careful motions so that even the last speck of imperfection was covered flawlessly. The silence of that particular ritual was interrupted, however, when Envy opened the door with a loud bang.

"Tut, tut, Envy," she said, hardly fazed. "Didn't I ever tell you to knock on the door first? A woman needs her privacy, you know."

"SHUT UP!" Envy shouted, and he stomped up to her, his violet eyes filled with anger. "Why didn't you tell me that _he _was here?"

"You were still pretending to be Rose," Dante answered calmly, almost apathetically. "And I should remind you that you still _are. _Where's the baby?"

"Don't worry; your precious baby is sleeping," Envy said, and he placed both hands on the nightstand next to Dante. "We agreed that he was _my _kill. No one else's!"

"I'm not just anybody else," the woman said, her brows creasing to a frown for the first time since Envy walked into the room. "And I had as many reasons to avenge myself as you did." Envy opened his mouth to speak, but she proved faster. "Besides… you still get to kill his sons once we're done with them." Her lips tugged to a smile, and she reached for Envy's face to caress it. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Her tone was soft, and it had the power to subdue the homunculus's anger. Smiling wickedly, he nodded and knelt down next to the woman in order to wrap his arms around her.

"I've told you, Envy. Mommy knows best," Dante continued, running her hand through Envy's unruly strands. "Just do what I say and we'll get what we both want."

"Yes, Mother."

"Good." Dante pricked up her ears when she heard the characteristic sound of a whimper. "What is that?"

Envy huffed in dismay. "That would be Gluttony. He's been snivelling ever since Lust left."

"I see," Dante mused aloud. She contemplated matters for a moment, and she eventually reached to a decision. "Bring him here, Envy. It's high time I corrected a mistake."

Envy didn't have to be told twice. He stood up and exited, only to return a few minutes later with Gluttony. The round homunculus kept wringing his hands nervously, his gaze drifting in all directions in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Lust.

"Where is she?" he asked. "Where's my Lust?"

"Poor, poor Gluttony," Dante declared, finally getting up from her chair. She circled the round homunculus, regarding him with quite the scrutiny. "So gullible and dependent… you really don't have much use to me in this state, do you?"

"Lust…" Gluttony whined softly.

"Don't worry, you'll forget her soon. Envy."

Understanding, Envy grabbed Gluttony from behind, forcing the round homunculus's jaws open to reveal his tongue. Once Dante saw clearly the tattoo of the ouroborous on the appendage, she placed both hands on it and activated it.

The series of growls that started emanating from Gluttony's throat was enough as a sign to Dante that the alchemical reaction was a success, and she smirked malevolently.

* * *

Roy found a comfortable place underneath a lit street-lamp and rested his back against the wall. Once he made sure that no one was watching him, he fixed his eyes on the plan that the bartender had given him. Though it was written on a small, cheap piece of paper, Roy had to admit that the sketch was detailed and easy to read. And, if the information was correct as the bartender claimed to be, that it wouldn't be difficult to infiltrate the Führer's house.

It was just as well, for he had only one chance to make his scheme work, and it was today.

The sound of the great clock in the centre of the city chimed seven times, indicating the time. Roy folded the piece of paper and put it back in his pocket before walking up to Riza. The woman stood in a relaxed manner next to a small black car, still in her disguise and reading a newspaper.

Riza turned around when she heard him approaching, her brown eyes locking on her commanding officer's as she awaited his orders.

"Start the engine. It's time to go."

Riza nodded her understanding and she stepped inside the driver's seat. A few moments later, Roy was inside the car as well, and both of them set off towards the outskirts of Central in silence. The only thing that could be heard was the radio announcer, telling of the latest news of the day.

"… Amestrian soldiers have been sent towards the Drachmanian borders in an official declaration of war with the neighbouring country, after suspicions of espionage and sabotage arose on the surface. The Führer's secretary, Colonel Juliette Douglas, among others, is considered to be part of said conspiracy, but the Führer himself has refused to make a statement as of yet. He has retired early in order to celebrate his son's birthday…"

* * *

Footsteps echoed hollowly in the abandoned building as Ed, Al and Beregond walked on, looking in every direction to catch sight of anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing to be seen though; just broken beams and glasses everywhere.

"Brother," Al whispered, as if afraid to break the silence around them. "Did those people worship the Sun God, like in Liore?"

"I don't think so," Ed said. "I don't see any statues of his ugly mug around."

"There aren't," Beregond said, overhearing the conversation. "According to your father, the 'heretics' used those buildings to hide."

"Nice," Ed replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "So how are we supposed to find a secret entrance in a place that's been collecting dust for the last 500 years?"

"I have something in mind," Beregond replied, pointing to the direction of a small altar. Indeed, the dust in that area was swept away, an indication that the stone slabs were removable. And, when Beregond moved closer so he can have a better look at them, he saw a small array that sealed the stone together.

"It shouldn't be too hard to break," the Gondorian mused aloud, placing his right hand on the seal. However, he stopped himself at the last minute as the entire situation was starting to feel all too familiar, making Beregond recall Lust's words to him.

_In our beginning, we meet our end._

Could it be…?

"Beregond? What's wrong?" Al asked.

Beregond looked up. The suit of armour was standing next to him, regarding him curiously. Even Ed was visibly frowning, trying to understand what was in Beregond's mind. The Gondorian clenched his jaw, berating himself. This was not the time to make philosophical theories!

"Nothing," he finally said, and he concentrated on the array. In the next moment, the seal was broken with a loud snap and Beregond stepped back. "Al?"

"Way ahead of you," the suit of armour said, and he grabbed the slabs with both hands, moving them away as if they weighed nothing.

Ed looked at the steps that were revealed before the three companions. The descent looked steep, but at least the torches on the walls provided enough light for them to see.

"Well, it looks like we're on the right track," the teen alchemist commented, and he clapped his hands. Once he transmuted his automail into a blade, he boldly stepped forward with Beregond and Al following close to his heels.


	14. Face Off

The eight-year-old boy watched with anticipation outside the window, trying to catch any familiar headlights in the darkness of the night. He could hear his mother talking to the servants of the mansion, giving them instructions where to put the silverware and the plates. If anything, she wanted to make the particular night a special occasion for the visitors she was expecting.

Little Selim, however, didn't really care about such formalities. As long as his father came, he was happy.

Just then, another pair of headlights appeared in the distance. Selim sat up, watching with bated breath the direction that the car took. When he saw it heading towards the mansion, he could hardly contain his excitement anymore.

"Mom! Mom! Father is back!" the young boy cried and he immediately rushed to the main door.

"Selim, don't run in the house!" his mother chided mildly, but Selim hardly paid attention. By the time Selim reached the foyer, his father was already entering, hading his coat over to the butler.

"Father! Welcome back!" Selim said, hurrying to King Bradley. Though the man wasn't his real father, it didn't mean that he didn't love him as one.

The Führer directed his gaze to Selim, and his lips tugged to his familiar smile. "Hello, son. Are you happy to see me?"

Selim nodded emphatically, a broad smile on his own lips. The Führer patted the boy on the head in an undeniable affectionate manner, and he reached for a small box that one of his escorts held.

Selim blinked in a puzzled manner, but then he felt his eyes widening when realisation caught up with him. "Is that for me?" he asked happily.

"It certainly is," the Führer answered, giving the present to Selim. "Happy Birthday, son."

Selim took the present and opened it, eager to see what was inside. He let out a small cry of joy when he took out a small toy-train.

"Thank you, father!" he said.

"You're welcome, my boy," the Führer said. "Why don't you go to the living room and play with it for a while?"

Selim didn't have to be told twice, of course. He quickly turned on his heel and went to the living room, the train still in his hands.

"Selim, we'll have dinner soon. Don't forget yourself!" his mother pointed out.

"I won't!" Selim promised.

The woman shook her head at that, and she walked over to her husband to give him an affectionate kiss. "Hello, dear. Welcome home."

"It feels good to be home," Bradley answered. "Any news?"

She giggled. "I hardly have the busy life you have," she replied. "I've only prepared our son's birthday dinner." She straightened his collar, making it look presentable as it was appropriate for a man of his stature. "And how was work?"

"A lot and barely worth mulling over."

The words had barely escaped his lips when one of the soldiers came into the foyer, seeming quite agitated.

"Sir," he said, remembering to salute. "There has been news that the chairman has called for an emergency meeting of the parliament."

Bradley raised an eyebrow at that. "Without me present? What is it about?"

"I… don't know, Sir," the soldier answered embarrassedly.

"Then find out," the Führer said, his tone icy-cold. "That's what-"

Bradley never completed his sentence, for it was in that moment that the sound of gunshots cut through the air. The woman flinched quite visibly, but his escort immediately snapped into action. As two of them stayed with Bradley, the other three looked out one of the windows to see what was going on.

"Go get Selim," Bradley said, prodding the woman to move.

She hesitated at first. When she saw her husband's calm expression, though, she managed to muster all her courage and she hurried off, calling Selim. Bradley, on the other hand, stepped close to the window.

"Sir, no!" one of the soldiers cried.

Another gunshot filled the air, but Bradley was hardly fazed. Motioning his head just a bit, he saw the bullet flying past his cheek, barely leaving so much as a scratch.

"Gentlemen, you now know where the sniper is. I suggest you got out there and apprehend him."

Though his soldiers were shocked at the scene that unfolded before their eyes, they didn't have the luxury to contemplate on it for long. They just complied with the Führer's order and burst out of the mansion. So eager they were to catch the shooter, that they didn't see the form of a young man moving stealthily under the shadows, heading straight for a small hatch at the back of the house.

* * *

When the boys and Beregond found themselves in front of a large steel-door, etched with alchemical arrays, they knew they had reached the right place. They all pushed it open, wincing at the loud crashing sound that reverberated throughout the hall that was revealed before them.

"So much for subtlety," Ed muttered, and he looked at his surroundings. "That's odd. The place looks pretty well-preserved for being four hundred years old." Indeed, there was hardly any sign of wear on the walls and pillars. The structure looked almost as good as new.

"And look at those arrays, Brother," Al said, locking his gaze on the elegant drawings on the walls. "They look like the array to create a philosopher's stone."

"Except they're more elaborate," Beregond added. "Whoever drew these knew what they were doing."

"Looks like it's the old man's work," Ed said, clenching his hands into fists. "I'm surprised he didn't come back here to admire his handiwork."

Beregond held his tongue and said nothing. He suspected that Hohenheim _had _come back here, but not for the reasons Ed believed. And, if there hadn't been any news of Hohenheim by now, it could only mean that the 400 year old man had lost the fight with Dante. Beregond now realised that they had to stop Dante at all costs, or this world would be surrendered in her hands.

"That's neither here nor there anymore," Beregond said, unsheathing his sword. "I'm going after Dante."

"Not a chance!" Ed said, revolting. "We're all going together!"

"And risk having Envy and Gluttony attacking us from behind?" Beregond reasoned." Someone has to deal with them, too."

"Brother, he has a point," Al said. "Maybe we ought to split up."

Ed, however, didn't seem so sure about this. His features scrunched to a deep frown, and he pursed his lips in thought. In the end, though, he let out a sigh of resignation.

"Okay, fine," he said, and he faced Beregond. "Just don't go and get yourself killed."

Beregond couldn't help but smile at that. "It would be pretty pathetic if I died just before the end," he said with a wink, a gesture done in an attempt to reassure the teen alchemist; then he hurried to a flight of stairs to his left.

Ed shook his head and looked at Al, a wry expression settling on his features. "You know, Al… I begin to wonder if we _have_ been a bad influence on him."

"If we have, he doesn't seem to mind," Al answered, his teasing tone quite audible in his voice.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

The boys froze, the voice almost startling them. However, the quickly realised that it wasn't Lyra's as they thought at first, but…

As if on cue, Rose herself came down another flight of stairs, the dress she wore making a soft rustling sound. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening when she noticed her friends.

"Ed! Al! What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Now that's funny; I was just about to ask you the same thing," Ed replied, frowning. But then, as the thought occurred to him, he clenched his jaw and held up his blade. "Unless you're not Rose."

Rose gasped, seeming shocked. "What? What do you mean, Ed?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Envy," Ed replied, taking a step forward. "You forgot that Rose can't talk. And there's no sign of the baby either."

'Rose' smirked malevolently and she held up her hands in resignation. "I'm impressed," she said. "You actually got one of the two correct."

Ed flinched at those words. "The baby is here?" he exclaimed, and then a terrible suspicion formed in the back of his mind. "What have you done to Rose?"

"Put her out of her miserable existence. That's what her life was ever since you decided that she and the other Liorites needed saving from Father Cornello," Envy answered, a toothy grin forming on his lips when _that _sparked anger in Ed's heart. In the next moment, Envy changed to the form of Hughes and he ran his hand through his hair. "Then again, Rose's life wasn't the only one's you screwed, was it?"

Ed clenched his jaw and set himself in a defensive position. "Al, the baby must be here somewhere. Find it and get out of here."

Al simply set himself in a defensive position as well, standing at his brother's side.

"Al?" Ed asked, staring at his brother incredulously.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," the suit of armour answered.

"But…!"

"Oh, trust him, shrimp," Envy said, grinning almost maniacally now. "You'll need all the help you can get."

The snarls were the only warning Ed and Al got as Gluttony charged at both of them from behind.

* * *

"Please, Mrs Bradley," one of the soldiers said, looking in the woman's direction; she was hastily filling a suitcase with as many things as she could. "We need to take you to safety."

"I'm coming," Mrs Bradley said, closing the suitcase with a sharp clicking sound. "Selim!" she cried.

"The boy immediately appeared, still holding the toy train in his hands. "Yes, mother?"

She walked up to him, her suitcase in one hand, and she knelt in front of him. "I want you to listen to me carefully, Selim. We have to leave as fast as we can. Stay with me at all time, do you understand?"

Selim's eyes widened, looking at his mother worriedly. "What about Father?"

"He'll find us later," Mrs Bradley promised, and she took her son by the hand to guide him down the hall. The Führer himself was already there, giving his last orders to his men: to escort Mrs Bradley and Selim to safety.

"But, Sir, we must protect you!" the officer said, aghast.

"Are you questioning my orders, Lieutenant Colonel?" King Bradley asked, his look practically piercing the officer through.

The lieutenant colonel swallowed hard, then shook his head. "No, Sir."

"Then do as I say," Bradley said, picking a sword that decorated the wall close to him.

"Yes, Sir," the lieutenant colonel said, yet he still hesitated. "Uh… What will _you _do?"

Bradley tested the blade's sharpness, a strange smile tugging on his lips.

"I'll go after a rat."

* * *

Beregond kept his jaw clenched and his fingers wrapped tightly around his sword. The corridor seemed empty, but the Gondorian knew that looks could be deceiving. So, he constantly looked in all directions, almost expecting either one of the Homunculi or Dante herself to lunge at him.

Nothing of the sort happened though. In fact, he was quite surprised when his ears picked up the sound of music… and it was coming from the room at the far side of the corridor. He licked his dry lips once, steadied his pounding hear, and he turned the handle. The door opened with a slightly creaking sound, easily covered by the gramophone as it still played on the lilting melody.

Even so, the young woman who turned on her seat to greet him looked hardly surprised by his presence.

"Well, well," the young woman said. "I was expecting you sooner than that, Mr. Beregond."

Beregond stiffened. "I would have said that you have me at a disadvantage since I don't know your name, but I think it's obvious who you are."

"I'm amazed by the swiftness of your deductions," Dante said, smiling. "Almost as amazed as I am about your _own _little secret."

"Then the time of introductions is over," Beregond declared, waving his hand. At the next moment, the wooden door was welded shut, sealing the two alchemists in the room. "This ends now."

Dante shook her head in mock sympathy. "Such anger. I pity you. With that kind of power in your fingertips, you could rule the world."

"The same way _you _have for the last four hundred years?" Beregond said. "I'll pass."

"Why do you disapprove of me?" Dante asked. "Because I strive to change the world?"

"Because you used it to your own ends!"

"A necessary evil so that the world will become what it should be."

Beregond glared at the young woman. "You're in no position to decide that."

"Aren't I? Aren't _you?_" Dante said. "We are the closest things to gods there are, Beregond. Throughout time, humans were always in the need of a superior force to guide them and give them meaning to their meagre existence." Her smile broadened. "But we could be that force in place of those that the humans have been turning to all these years, and yet received nothing but pain and disappointment."

"We don't get pain and disappointment from gods. It's because of gods that humans – like you and I – find the strength to endure," Beregond pointed out.

"Should there be any suffering the first place?" Dante asked softly, walking up to the man. "You have been through enough of it in your lifetime, haven't you? And what did your gods do for you? Your world, your whole being, got swept away in one breath."

Beregond froze, his hands trembling. Dante, however, was far from finished.

"But no more. With your knowledge and my philosopher's stone, we could make this world a perfect place, a paradise. There wouldn't be any more wars, sadness or regrets. Isn't that what you want for those two boys?"

"It is," the man said, his voice coming out hoarse.

"Then offer them that chance," Dante replied, and she boldly clasped Beregond's hand. "The world is yours. Take it."

That snapped Beregond out of his confusion and doubt. He sprang back as though he got burnt.

"And then what? What will happen when my knowledge and your philosopher's stone aren't enough anymore?" His voice came out stronger, full of determination. "War will break out again, and there will be sadness and regret all over; for whenever there's creation, there _must _be destruction. _That's _how the world moves on, and the people within it have to choose which of those two paths they're to walk." He held up his sword once more, setting himself in a defensive position. "You aren't offering that choice."

"And now you've left me with none either," Dante said, her face etching in an expression of anger and cruelty. "If you won't use the power that was bestowed upon you so generously, then I'll have it as my own!"

With that, she connected her hands together, and the blue light of transmutation filled the air as the battle began.


	15. The End

Pride walked down the stairs to his basement slowly. The cries of his soldiers and the gunshots were barely heard anymore, since the walls in the particular part of the house were thick. Moreover, it was dark enough for any trespasser to lurk if he wanted to surprise anyone who was to come down here.

Sure enough, the door of the cellar was ajar; a sign that somebody was inside. Pride, however, was hardly concerned about that. He already suspected who it was, and he would make sure that the intruder would pay for his insolence.

With that thought in mind, Pride walked inside, then locked the door behind him. There would be only one coming out of this room again.

"Why am I not surprised you decided to face me alone?" Mustang's voice sounded from the darkest corner of the room.

Pride allowed himself a small smirk. "Your behaviour leads me to assume this isn't the first time that you've betrayed my trust."

"You've got a hell of a lot of nerve, lecturing me about betrayal." The Flame Alchemist finally stepped out of the shadows, positively glaring at his adversary.

"Are you referring to the fact that I'm a homunculus?" Pride asked, uncovering the eye that carried the symbol of the ouroboros.

Mustang kept his expression neutral. Even so, Pride could tell that the alchemist didn't expect that last revelation, regardless of his brave front.

"Whether or not you want to call yourself a human being is a non-issue, as far as I'm concerned, Bradley."

"Then what's the problem?" Pride asked in an almost innocent tone. "Ever since I've become Führer, I've done nothing but win wars, purify our population and exponentially expand our territory.

"You couldn't care less about the State, all you wanted was the philosopher's stone," Mustang said. "You started those conflicts because you knew people driven by despair would tend to seek refuge in the stone."

"People are foolish."

"Foolish enough to let you gain from their pain and suffering!"

"You got me all wrong. I merely serve as an instrument of the one who truly gains," Pride corrected. "I consider myself god's right hand."

"You serve no god," Mustang replied angrily.

"Perhaps," Pride admitted. "But devils do exist. They're the alchemists who dare get in my way!"

And with that, Pride lunged forward with the agility of a great cat, sword held up for the kill.

* * *

If there was something that Riza knew well was how the military operated; after all, she was a soldier herself. That also enabled her to manipulate that kind of knowledge to her advantage, so that she could keep giving her pursuers the slip and giving Roy all the time he needed in order to take care of Bradley.

Even so, she still believed she should be doing something more. Ever since she had joined Roy's unit, she had been placed as his bodyguard, a demanding and dangerous job. She devoted herself to it, practically giving up her personal life, because she didn't believe she needed anything else. As long as Roy Mustang lived long enough to see to his goals, she was content as well; for it felt she did own part in restoring democracy.

And now, it had come to this: the ultimate showdown. Roy was inside, giving his everything, yet she wasn't there to protect him. That, in her book, was significant negligence which she had to remedy. It was true that Roy's orders had been to lure Bradley's escort as far away from the mansion as possible, but she had already seen to that task. The soldiers were off on a wild goose chase, and they weren't coming back any time soon. It was time to make her move.

Moving swiftly and without the least bit of sound, Riza moved to a tree located next to the mansion. One of the branches was extended close to a window, making things easy for her. Climbing up, she reached the window and unbolted it with nimble fingers, then jumped inside.

The particular room – Bradley's office, from the looks of it – looked empty, at first glance. However, Riza instantly caught sight of a small boy next to a painting, regarding her quite apprehensively. Riza bit her lower lip, for she recognised the boy as Bradley's stepson. If he raised the alarm…

"I-I know you," the boy said softly. "You're one of Father's soldiers."

That was something Riza didn't want to hear. Nevertheless, she tried to stay calm. "I'm surprised you'd remember me, Selim. It's been more than a month since you visited Central Headquarter," she said, recalling the incident quite well.

"I liked your dog," Selim admitted shyly. At the next moment, however, he regarded Riza quite apprehensively. "What are you doing here?"

Riza thought fast. "I was about to ask you the same thing. Where's your mother?"

The boy lowered his gaze. "I sneaked away from her. I wanted to get something from the room," he answered. "I will go back to her."

"The sooner, the better," Riza said with a nod. "What was it so important that you had to come up here?"

"Well, this," Selim replied, taking out of his bag a human skull. "Dad always said that his life depended on it and I wanted to keep it safe."

Riza felt her eyes widening at the sight of the skull, hardly believing that a young boy wasn't in the least disturbed while handling it. Moreover, Selim's choice of words caught her attention. How could a man's life depend on human's remains?

"Selim! Selim, where are you?"

Selim flinched. "That's my Mother," he said, and he hastily gave the skull to Riza. "Please, take it."

Riza stared at the boy dubiously. "You're giving it to me?"

Selim nodded. "You're military. You'll protect Father," he said, a smile tugging on his lips before running out of the room, leaving a guilt-ridden Riza behind. In his innocence, the boy unwittingly handed her, the enemy, a weapon against the Führer.

That, however, was neither here nor there anymore. She had come too far to step back now, so near the end. So, using the darkness of the room to her advantage, she waited until there was silence outside the room; then she exited, her gun in one hand and the skull in the other.

* * *

Maes walked up to the military unit that was standing in attention before him a few yards outside the Military Headquarters, expecting their superior's command. He recognised the familiar faces of Sergeant Bloch and Lieutenant Ross among them, and he couldn't help but smile inwardly. This operation was certainly complied by good, loyal men, just as the chairman had hoped for when he handed the Brigadier General the task he was about to carry out.

"You've probably heard the rumours by now," he said, pacing up and down. "Unfortunately, they're hardly rumours. The Führer, King Bradley, _is _the mastermind behind a conspiracy against the State, against _you._ He has been one ever since he took over the reins of this country. All these wars, all these conflicts were never meant to bring peace; they were pointless. This is something that the State isn't willing to tolerate any longer. The chairman has authorised the Führer's arrest, so he can answer for his actions in a court of law. If he puts up any resistance, then you're free to defend yourselves. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" the soldiers replied, saluting.

"Good," Maes said, and he turned to Armstrong; the major was standing right next to him. "Take several men and head for the Führer's mansion. And make sure a certain someone didn't get himself killed by playing hero," he whispered confidentially.

"Fear not, Brigadier General," Armstrong answered. "I'll carry out the task with the grace and efficiency that runs in the Armstrong family for generations."

"All right," Maes said, and he saluted as well. "Good luck, Major."

"And to you, Brigadier General," Armstrong said.

Maes didn't say anything this time. He just watched Armstrong and his subordinates go, and then he faced the rest of the soldiers.

"Gentlemen," he declared, and one of the knives sprang right out of his sleeves. "Let's start doing some cleaning up."

* * *

Roy jumped aside before Bradley's blade cut his face a third time, but the homunculus moved swiftly and managed to cut him on the shoulder. Stinging pain washed through Roy's entire body, yet the Flame Alchemist let no sound out of his lips.

This was no fight, but a cat playing with a mouse; Roy understood that only too well. Even so, he didn't intend to give up, because he still had a plan. All he had to do was to stay alive a little while longer.

Bradley attacked again, and it took all of Roy's speed to avoid getting slashed once more. His back bumped against the bottles of wine that were there, aging; and the Flame Alchemist knew it was time to counterattack. The moment that Bradley wielded his sword for the kill, Roy dodged the hit and rolled away to safety. The sound of shattering glass reached his ears, a sign that Bradley had broken more than just several bottles of wine, spilling their contents on the floor.

It was the chance Roy had been waiting for. Knowing how flammable alcohol was, he snapped his fingers and let his pyrotex gloves do their work. A great booming sound reverberated in the entire room and crimson flames burst out from everywhere. Roy felt himself flung against the wall, shards of glass cutting him even further. His back hurt like hell and he bled quite profusely; the warm sensation of the blood flowing out of his wounds was sickening, to say the least.

He still got up, eyes scanning the destroyed room for any sign of his adversary. At first, he could see no sign of him, and, for a brief moment, Roy dared believe that he had actually killed Bradley.

It wasn't so. All Roy's hopes shattered when the alchemist saw a great mass of muscles, veins, nerves and bones standing up amid the rubble.

"Is my species of a consequence to you now?" the mass asked, its sneering tone audible. Skin and black clothing appeared as if by sorcery, and soon a pair of eyes, one grey and red locked on Roy.

"I never got the chance to test my homunculus' traits much," Bradley said as hair started growing back on his head. "I wanted to see what would happen if I let my whole body explode."

Roy never got the chance to react. In the blink of an eye, Bradley slashed the gloves from Roy's hands and stabbed the young alchemist through the shoulder. Such was the homunculus' force that Roy found himself pinned against the wall, unable to move and clenching his jaw so he wouldn't cry out in pain.

"You really wanted my position badly, didn't you, Mustang?" Bradley asked. "I appreciate qualities such as ambition, but you should have been more patient. The Parliament will never accept an assassin to lead them."

Roy mustered all of his courage and stubbornness, still wishing to have the final word. "You're right; they won't. That's why they'll choose a different path, free from a Führer's reign!"

Bradley's eyes widened, just slightly; it was enough as a sign that the homunculus had finally realised what Roy had been after all along. It was neither glory nor power… but a chance to change the world.

"I see…" Bradley said at last, his voice dangerously low. "Too bad you won't be able to see the fruits of your labour thrive." He slashed deeper, the blade of the sword inching closer to the young human's heart.

Roy screamed.

* * *

"Keep trying, Ed!" the fake Maes taunted, always leaping out of Ed's reach. "Your guilt is slowing you down!"

Ed gritted his teeth, wrath boiling in his veins, and he clapped his hands. A stony wall sprang up from the ground, blocking Envy's way, and Ed found the chance to manage a powerful kick on the homunculus' jaw.

Envy landed on his knees, dizzied by the hit. At the next moment, Ed grabbed him by the arms in a strong grip.

"Is that all you've got? Impersonations with guilt-trips attached?" Ed said in a growl.

"Damn you…" Envy breathed out.

"You're gonna have to do better than that!" Ed retorted. "Do you remember your old buddy, Sloth? I killed her while she had the face of my own mother!"

"Really?" In a heartbeat, Envy changed, looking exactly like Trisha Elric. "That must have been hard for you."

Ed flinched for a mere moment; Envy nevertheless seized the opportunity and punched Ed on the stomach.

The young alchemist's groan of pain was replaced by his thirst for revenge. "You're gonna pay for that!"

Envy simply sneered. "So… not as tough as you think."

The homunculus, however, didn't have time to gloat on his victory. At the next moment, an armoured fist landed on Envy's jaw, throwing him against the wall.

"Leave our mother out of this!" Al declared, his red eyes reflecting his anger.

"Al, look out!" Ed shouted, seeing the danger his brother was in. Indeed, Gluttony was about to sink his teeth on Al's arm, but Ed reacted in the nick of time. Using his automail, he kicked Gluttony away before the homunculus caused Al any real harm.

"Thanks, Brother!" Al said, giving Ed a thumbs-up.

"Thank me when this is over," Ed replied, nevertheless he smiled. "Right. Now…" Remembering himself, he clenched his hands into fists and he walked over to the spot where Envy had fallen. Though the Homunculus didn't move, Ed was still wary. He grabbed his adversary by the collar so he would face him properly.

"Don't hurt me, Edward…" Envy said, still in Trisha's guise.

"Don't mess with me!" Ed cried, punching Envy.

Envy didn't stop though. He changed faces again, and the familiar face of Dr. Marcoh appeared.

"Edward, please, stop it!"

That earned him another punch, and Envy changed once more.

"Give up, kid. You don't have what it takes to kill me," he declared, using Roy's face this time.

If Envy intended to daunt Ed, it certainly didn't work.

"I don't think you could have picked an easier target!" he declared, punching Envy again on the jaw. "Show me what you really look like, instead of being a coward, whose only real power is to hide behind other people's faces!"

Envy spat some blood from his mouth and glared at Ed. "Do you really want to see?" he asked coldly.

"STOP JERKING ME AROUND!"

"You've asked for it!"

Envy changed his face one final time, and Ed was horrified to see his father's face. Or rather, a man who looked like a younger version of his father. His fist remained in mid-air as the young alchemist still stared at the familiar features incredulously.

"What's wrong?" Envy asked, his voice no longer carrying the androgynous quality that had sickened Ed. "I thought you wanted to see."

Ed tried to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat. "You… You're his… son?" he breathed out.

Envy laughed. "I was the _first _homunculus, created more than four hundred years ago. I was the result of a failed human transmutation after the bastard and Dante's son died of mercury poisoning. I suppose you could say that I was once your brother."

Ed flinched. However, Envy was far from done.

"But then he abandoned us, my mother and I. He abandoned us so he could start fresh with his perfect wife and kids. Needless to say that I never did like being replaced."

Ed never registered the arm that ran through him, the arm that Envy had changed in the meantime to resemble a sword. All he felt was a mouthful of blood rising up his throat and flowing out of his lips, and then the dull sensation of his body crashing on the ground.

"BROTHER!"

But Ed didn't hear Al's screams. The only sound that reverberated through him was his heartbeat gradually slowing as darkness descended upon him.

"And that is that," Envy said, grinning cruelly. He got back on his feet, blood staining his arm as Ed's lifeless body slipped off him; but the homunculus didn't think twice about it. He simply kicked it away as if it were a worthless piece of junk.

"BROTHER!" Al screamed, and he rushed forward, hoping to help his brother somehow. Gluttony's jaw, however, closed around him at that very moment, snapping the armour, and his seal, in two.

The sound of metal rang through the room; the helmet rolled to Envy's feet. Yet the homunculus just grinned, for the second brother was gone as well.

"Well done, fatty," he said. "You finally proved yourself useful."

Gluttony didn't say anything. He just stared at Envy, his eyes carrying no readable expression.

"Right. You don't recognise me, do you?" Envy said. "Don't worry. We'll get you something to eat."

They were the words that Envy should never have said. At the prospect of another meal, Gluttony opened his jaws wide once more and lunged at Envy, roaring for the kill.

* * *

Roy screamed, the pain being too much for him. Worse, the blade cut more and more flesh, approaching the heart in an agonizingly slow pace. He closed his eyes, unable to do anything but accept his oncoming death.

But, just when Roy thought it was over, Bradley stopped and doubled over, as though something was paining him. He tried to get up, but it was impossible; an unknown force pinned him down.

"What… What is happening to me?" the homunculus murmured.

"What should have happened all along," a woman's voice said.

Roy widened his eyes, and he looked over Bradley's shoulder, scarcely believing his ears. Riza, on the other hand, stood at the hole the explosion had created and held up a human skull – the _real _Bradley's skull.

"Lieutenant…"

Bradley forced his head around and glared at the woman. "I always thought you would be a problem," he groaned through clenched teeth. "I wanted to use you as leverage when the time came, but my master wouldn't have it."

"Because she knew that it would do you no good," Riza said. "Now just do me a favour and die."

She fired only once, and Bradley staggered backwards as the bullet hit him between the eyes. He still didn't fall.

"Foolish just like the rest of your kind," Bradley said. "It takes more than a bullet to finish me off."

"Then let's try again," Roy said, completing the array that he had drawn on the wall in the meantime, using his own blood. "I don't know how long you've lived, Bradley, or how many times you've cheated death; but not anymore!"

At the next moment, flames sprang forward as if they had a life of their own and enveloped the homunculus, setting him aflame and consuming him. Bradley's screams only fell to deaf ears as justice was finally served.

"It's the end," Roy whispered.

* * *

Beregond clenched his jaw as the floor shook violently under Dante's transmutations. If there was anything that Beregond had to hand to the woman, it was her persistence and determination. However, the Gondorian didn't plan on backing down either. When a ground snake appeared, the light of the transmutation reaction still surrounding it, Beregond held up his left hand and waved it just once. The snake stiffened, remaining where it was as the heat that surged through its body tore it from the inside. Yet Beregond didn't let his guard down; he set himself in a defensive position again.

"Is that the best you can do?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll show you how weak I am!" Dante practically snarled, and she connected her hands together. At the next moment, the glass shards that were formed by Beregond's alchemic-induced heat on the snake formed a large lance which she threw against the Gondorian.

Hardly fazed, Beregond took a step back and let the shield that sprang out at his bidding take the hit. The lance shattered, but that didn't stop Dante. She connected her hands again and the shield vanished, only to be replaced by sand that swirled around Beregond, almost choking him. Though whipped mercilessly, however, Beregond managed to use his sword and create a powerful air current that dispersed the sand away.

The woman stood proud before him in spite of her new defeat. "You really are powerful. Even more powerful than Hohenheim in many ways," she noted. "I suppose it has to do with your heritage."

"Stop acting as if you know what you're talking about!" Beregond snapped.

"But I do know; more than you think, in fact," Dante said. "I've read Edward's reports about you. You didn't even know what alchemy was before you ended up here; and yet, you opened the Gate of Truth. Didn't you wonder why?"

"I died, what's there to wonder about?" Beregond said.

"Exactly. You died," Dante replied, smiling. She pointed at the medallion that still shone on Beregond's chest. "That thing killed you. Just as it killed our ancestors all those years ago."

Beregond glared at the woman. "Where are you getting at?"

Dante laughed. "For someone with such vast alchemic power, you're still a hopeless ignorant. The five-pointed star is the alchemic symbol of Truth, the Gate that holds the secrets of both life and death, yes. But the five-pointed star is within humans as well, connecting us to life and death – connecting us to both the material and the spiritual world.

"All is One, One is All," Beregond said. "I know that theory, and there was someone else who had figured it out more than four hundred years ago." His hands tightened around his sword. "The only way _you_ could have possibly known about it, though, is if _he _had told you himself. And you showed your gratitude by having him accused as a heretic."

"I'm surprised, admittedly. I never expected you to know that story," Dante said, but she shrugged at the next moment. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now."

"It matters to me!" Beregond growled.

"Really? More than what the Truth itself represents?" Dante asked. "You're part of it as well. You, of all alchemists, should acquaint yourself with it."

Beregond pursed his lips momentarily. "Perhaps I should. But I've also learned that some things aren't meant to be tampered with, or you will pay the price."

The words barely escaped the man's mouth when it suddenly happened. A roar made both alchemists freeze in their tracks and turn around, just in time to see the door breaking under Gluttony's weight. Beregond stared abhorred at the berserk homunculus as it locked its gaze on the thing that was closest at that moment: Dante.

"What do you think you're doing?" the woman exclaimed, a tinge of fear quite audible in her voice. "Where's Envy?"

Those were her last words, for Gluttony lunged at her and closed his jaws around her. Blood spilled all over the floor, sickening Beregond to no end. Even so, the Gondorian couldn't help but stare at the abominable sight, his heart hammering against his chest almost painfully.

This… this wasn't Gluttony. It was a thoughtless monster which would stop at nothing to satisfy the undying hunger that constantly gnawed its insides.

"Unhappy creature…" Beregond murmured, and he lowered his sword slowly on the ground. The sword wouldn't be of use to him in his attempt to put an end to the misery that was Gluttony's existence.

Gluttony looked up, his face and teeth all red, and he scrutinised his next victim. Swallowing hard, Beregond reached for his trenchcoat and he started unbuttoning it carefully, hoping that Gluttony wouldn't attack just yet. He had one chance for his plan to work and this was it. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes now.

Everything came to a standstill. Beregond waited with bated breath for the homunculus's move, keeping his eyes on him at all hours. Finally, Gluttony let out another roar and charged at Beregond at full speed.

Deeming that it was now or never, Beregond jumped aside before Gluttony's teeth would sink on his body, and he threw the trenchcoat over the monster's head. Gluttony was so surprised at the sudden darkness that surrounded him that he crashed against the wall, giving Beregond enough time to place his hands on the monster's back. If he started the alchemic reaction quickly enough…

It didn't work. Gluttony reached behind him and grabbed the man by his right arm to toss him away in anger. Beregond screamed as his arm snapped, and then, next thing he knew, he was sent flying across the room and landing on a heap on the floor. Stars blurred his vision at the impact, but he quickly recovered from that spell, for Gluttony was coming at him again.

Beregond tried to get up, yet his body couldn't comply fast enough; so went for one of his most desperate plans in his life. He rolled forward, knocking Gluttony off his feet.

Gluttony's jaws certainly missed the Gondorian, but not his body. Beregond found himself pinned down, his broken arm taking all of the homunculus' weight. Even so, Beregond still had enough presence of mind to use his good arm and place it on the homunculus's chest. Great spasms wracked the monster's body as the alchemic reaction took effect this time, and, a few retching sounds later, Gluttony heaved out all the red stones from his body. As the homunculus was rendered powerless, Beregond closed his eyes and concentrated.

The body made one final spasm, and then Gluttony lay perfectly still, his eyes and ears bleeding out – the same way Scar's victims did. Several minutes passed, but Beregond didn't move; he still tried to catch his breath after exerting himself so much. Powerful alchemist or not, he was still only human, and he was in a lot of pain as well.

In the end though, he decided he should get Gluttony off him. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the lifeless body away from him with his legs, then staggered back on his feet. He tried not to mind the burning sensation on his chest, until he registered that it was spreading on his _skin._ Gasping at the realisation, he immediately looked down and saw his shirt and medallion getting eaten away by acid-like saliva – Gluttony's last weapon.

"Damn it!" Beregond exclaimed, and he quickly placed his hand on his chest to neutralise the acid. Even so, the damage was already done. His skin was marred in more than just several places, while the medallion was distorted out of shape; the array was no more, and the way to the gate was closed for the living. Neither Ed nor Al would be able to get their bodies now unless they found a different way.

But no, that wasn't the time to think about that. Beregond had to find the boys first, perhaps even help them against the remaining homunculus. Envy was still at large.

With that, Beregond exited the room, though he couldn't move as fast as he wanted. The pain on his chest was worse than he cared to admit and he had to stop more than once to compose himself before forging on, urged by one thought: to find Edward and Alphonse.

When he arrived at the hall, he was greeted with nothing but silence and a sight that brought him down on his knees.

"Ed…"

The young man was in the centre of the hall, sprawled on his back in a pool of his own blood, a gaping wound on his chest; whereas his eyes were empty of life and staring at the ceiling.

"Al…"

The armour was shattered, the red flickers for eyes that shone brilliantly through the helmet gone and leaving behind only blackness.

And then the hall was no longer silent. A single howl, very much like a wounded animal's, tore itself from the chest of the only living thing in there and rang throughout the place, filling it with its sorrow and pain.

* * *

Roy breathed heavily, struggling to remain standing. It was of no use, though; he was far too exhausted. If it weren't for Riza catching him and offering her own body for support at the last moment, he would have certainly crashed on the floor.

"Don't fight it, Sir," she said, the mask of professionalism slipping.

"No… There's one more thing left," he grounded out, and he touched the transmutation circle on the wall again. Fire sprang to life again and started consuming the red liquid that was spread in front of him – the last remnants of Bradley. "Throw the skull into the fire, Lieutenant."

Riza nodded her understanding and did as she was told. Casting only a brief glance at it, she tossed it amid the flames. The skull landed with a small thud on the floor, but it soon disappeared behind the red tongues. Only a deep cracking told both soldiers that the skull was finally broken in two, thus sealing Bradley's demise forever.

"It's over," Riza whispered.

"Yes," Roy replied. "Yes, it is." At the next moment, however, he lifted his head and pricked up his ears. "Do you hear that?"

Riza looked up too, trying to listen. "Sounds like footsteps… and Armstrong's voice."

"Indeed," Roy replied, a smile finally forming on his lips before he closed his eyes and fell forward.

"Sir!" Riza cried, tightening her grip on Roy in the hops of stopping Roy's fall a second time. As she realised that she was battling a lost cause, however, she eased Roy on the floor and took out her jacket to place on Roy's wound in the hopes of slowing down the bleeding. "Don't give up yet."

"I won't," Roy murmured, opening his eyes weakly. "for you."

Riza blinked, and stared at Roy incredulously. "Sir?"

"You think I didn't know?" he said, actually smirking. "I always knew. But I had to fulfil my goal first."

She shook her head. "Your blood loss has clouded your judgement."

Roy rolled his eyes, his strength rapidly failing him. "Maybe," he said, and then his hand cupped Riza's chin, prodding her to lean closer. "At least I'd like to have something to dream while I'm passed out."

Riza didn't have time to react. His lips sealed on hers in a definite kiss, and she caught herself freezing in disbelief and shock. But, as she tasted the copper-like taste of blood in his mouth, mixed with the essence that was all Roy, she yielded. She closed her eyes as well and answered back the kiss with the same fervour.

That is, until the man slipped to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, and the kiss ended as quickly as it had happened.

* * *

Somehow, Beregond was aware that all reason had abandoned him. He didn't try to do anything about it though. There was nothing he could do, nor did he _want _to. The only thing that prevailed was instinct. He approached slowly, as though struggling against the smell of death that was smothering him; he brought Edward's head and torso on his lap, his uninjured arm holding the lifeless form protectively; his eyes locked on the twisted metal whence a youthful voice echoed once not too long ago, and he waited in agony to hear that same welcome voice again.

But in the end, it was only Beregond himself that spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry… I tried…"

No more words came out; they were replaced with sobs which Beregond couldn't hold back even if he tried. Tears spilt and fell on Edward's face, wetting the young man's cheeks and giving the impression that he was crying too. Seeing this, Beregond attempted to wipe the salty liquid with trembling fingers, almost guilty for somehow disturbing the young man's strange slumber. The fingers remained on the Edward's cheek, and Beregond felt the warmth that clung stubbornly there.

Just like it clung on his son's face when…

Beregond froze, for the realisation gave him unexpected hope. And as he held on to that hope, four words echoed in his mind and instinct took over again, controlling all of his actions and dismissing all logic.

_There _is_ a way._

And just like that, Beregond's blood ran cold in his veins, froze the heart and shattered it. An invisible weight made all air escape from his lungs and darkness shrouded his vision, but Beregond wasn't afraid.

_In our beginning we meet our end, _Lust had said.

He never felt the impact of his body on the floor as he collapsed beside Edward.

His heart had already stopped beating.

TBC...


	16. Gone

"Sir, the west wing has been secured!" one of the soldiers said, saluting Maes.

"The east wing has been secured as well, Sir!" a sergeant also reported, putting his gun back in his holster.

"Good job," Maes replied, nodding in approval. "See to it that the soldiers who have put up a fight be placed in trucks so they can be transferred to the tribunal. We will sort the lot out later."

"Understood," both soldiers said, and they saluted respectively before walking out. Maes simply waved his head in an absentminded manner, and he resumed examining the room he was currently in. The Führer's office.

Maes had to admit that he didn't see anything out of the ordinary at first glance. The room was as typical as they come. Even so, the brigadier general couldn't help but feel as though he was missing something important. For he still remembered the last time that he had been here, and there was a question that kept plaguing his mind. How did Lust manage to enter the military headquarters without being noticed?

It could be argued that it had been very late at night and so nobody on the graveyard shift had noticed her. On the other hand, was it really that possible for a woman who looked nothing like military personnel go by without anyone noticing her? If anything, a guy would have certainly turn around to give her the once over.

So how did she do it?

Just then, Maes spotted what he had been looking for. The wooden floor behind Bradley's desk was scratched as if something heavy was dragged on it. And, if the curved lines were any indication, it meant that that something was actually a door.

Frowning, Maes regarded the bookcase in front of him with quite the scrutiny, then lit up a lighter to see what would happen. The little flame danced for a moment, and then it pointed to the direction of the bookcase, proving that there _was _an air current in the particular place.

Maes didn't waste any time. He fumbled the edge of the bookcase so that he would find an opening big enough to stick his hands in; and then he started pulling with all his strength. The bookcase finally budged with a heavy groan, revealing the secret that was hiding behind it.

An elevator. And, unless Maes was sorely mistaken, it only lead downwards. The man wasn't sure what could possibly be underground, but he decided he had to investigate. Pulling the elevator door shut, he pressed the button that pointed downwards and, moments later, Maes started descending to the depths of hell.

Maes didn't know how long he was cooped up in that elevator. But finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator came to a halt. Maes opened the door slowly, shivering as the chill which permeated the atmosphere practically pierced him through and through. Still, he braced himself with all the courage he could muster and he continued on. His steps echoed throughout the corridor almost like thunderclaps, making Maes more than just a little nervous. Before even realising it, he had taken out his knives and prepared himself for anything that might spring out from the shadows.

Nothing happened though. Not even when he walked towards the only lit room he could see, and finally came across a sight he never expected. Ed was there, kneeling next to an emaciated boy who was trying to hide his nakedness with Ed's red overcoat… and both of them were leaning over Beregond, who had his eyes closed.

"Stay… Stay…" Ed kept whispering, holding the bloodied form close to him.

"Ed!" Maes rushed forward and knelt down as well, staring at the Gondorian's broken form incredulously. "What happened?"

The boy looked up at him. "Mr. Hughes… Call for an ambulance… Please."

Maes stared at the boy, scarcely believing his ears. The voice was trembling and weak; yet he still recognised it.

"Al? How…?"

"Damn it, Hughes, just call for an ambulance!" Ed snapped.

Maes didn't have to be told again. Nodding his understanding, he hurried out to send for help.

* * *

_Ed knew perfectly well where he was when he saw the Gate before him again, and he also knew what had come to pass. Envy had won, and he was taken to the beyond of which he had only caught a glimpse before. So when it opened and the snake-like hands of death came for him, he had accepted his defeat without struggle. _

_His only regret was that he knew Al was with him. His brother wouldn't stand a chance against two Homunculi. But, at least, they would be together once the Gate closed behind them. He could already hear the awful creaking sound as the great door was getting shut once more._

_But…it never closed. Warmth surrounded him instead, and a comforting voice that sounded like the chiming of bells rang in his ears. _

_The voice seemed so familiar…_

_At the next moment though, the warmth and the voice were gone, and__pain pulled Ed out of unconsciousness. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, he immediately gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out. However, the screams that sounded not too far from him make him look on his left in surprise. He knew those screams; he had heard them before, when he was eleven years old. _

"_Alphonse?"_

_It couldn't be…_

_He didn't dare hope…_

_The emaciated, trembling flesh body shifted. "Brother… it hurts…" the familiar voice said tensely, and the dove-grey eyes that Ed would have given anything to see again locked on him._

"_Alphonse!" Ed tried to push himself to his feet, but his arm and leg were hurting too much. _

_That didn't stop him; it wouldn't. He crawled close to Al, heart pounding rapidly on his chest and wanting to cry out for other reasons then the pain he was feeling._

_He almost did when he felt the flesh beneath cautious fingertips._

"_It's you… it's really you…" _

_Alphonse nodded, a broad smile tugging on his lips at last. "Your arm and leg… they're back too."_

_Ed blinked. "What are you…?" But then his eyes caught sight of his right hand and he gasped in amazement. _

_No way… _

_He instantly lifted his sleeve and looked at his shoulder, where he saw proof that it was so; the scar he got from the fox-bite was there._

"_How…?"_

"_I don't know…I was at the gate and then…I heard a voice and something pulled me away…" Al said. He lifted a hand weakly. "Help me up." _

_Ed stared, unsure. "You're hurting… you shouldn't force yourself."_

"_The pain's almost gone," Al reassured him. "Don't you feel it?"_

_Yes, Ed could feel it. His limbs weren't hurting anymore. All that remained was a dull tingling sensation, and that was decreasing rapidly too. He subconsciously moved his fingers, still not believing that he was looking at flesh digits instead of mechanical._

"_Brother…"_

"_Yeah… sorry Al…" Ed mumbled and helped his brother up. He raised an eyebrow at noticing Al's condition and he shook his head in disapproval. "Let's see what I can do about that…" Ed said. And with that, he took off his trenchcoat and placed it over Alphonse. _

"_Thank you…" Al whispered, a faint blush visible on his cheeks._

_Ed just smiled, his joy almost indescribable. Al was whole again._

_And yet… the teen alchemist also wanted to cry._

_Why?_

_Suddenly, a gasp escaped Al's lips and he rushed forward, pain and joy all forgotten. Stunned, Ed turned around, and he saw what upset his brother: the bloodied and unmoving form that his brother was now shaking violently. _

_Finally, Ed understood. And at the next moment, he hurried at Beregond's side also. _

"_Beregond? Beregond, answer me! BEREGOND!"_

_There was no response; not a verbal one anyway; for Ed saw clearly the pallid colour on Beregond's face._

"_Brother… he… he can't…" Al faltered, looking at Ed for affirmation._

_No. No, he couldn't be. _

_Not now._

_Without thinking, Ed grabbed the sword that was lying close to him and placed it close to the man's lips._

_Please…_

_The seconds passed and yet there was no fogging. No indication that Beregond was, in fact, breathing. _

"_No… no…" Ed's voice came out shaky, panicked at the realisation that crept on the back of his mind. Trying to control himself, he placed his ear close to where he knew Beregond's heart should be beating._

_Should… but wasn't._

"_Damn it!" He locked his gaze on the slack face before him. "Don't you dare!" he muttered, as though Beregond somehow still heard him._

_Nothing changed. Unable to take it, Ed let his fist fall brutally on Beregond's chest. Again. And again. _

"_Damn it, do you dare!" At the fourth, strongest hit, Al grabbed his hand and stopped him._

"_I feel a pulse…"_

_Ed's eyes widened ten-fold and he immediately leaned forward to hear that blessed breathing he had been striving for._

_It was there… faint and shallow, but there. At that moment, Ed could only wish for one thing._

"_Stay… Stay…" _

* * *

Ed curled closer to himself, clenching tightly the blanket had been placed on him. The memories that haunted him felt as f they chilled him to the very bone.

"Brother, you okay?"

The teen alchemist looked up, almost surprised to realise that he was in a hospital room with Alphonse. He blinked once, twice, and then he shook his head. Al was so weak that he had to be carried to the hospital and placed under intensive treatment; and yet he was still worried about his older brother.

"I'm fine, Al. I was just… thinking," he replied. "Where's Hughes?"

"He went to talk to Major Armstrong," Al said. "They brought the Colonel in and he wants to check on him."

"Check on him?" Ed echoed, perplexed. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure, but… they do say the Führer's dead," Al said. "Burned in his own home."

Ed frowned. "Burned, huh?" he sighed and rested his back against the chair he was sitting on. "I guess we don't have to worry about him anymore."

"Yeah."

Silence followed for many long moments, during which Ed kept his gaze locked on the door.

"He'll be fine, brother," Al said. "He has to be."

"I know," Ed replied at once, nodding emphatically. "I'm just surprised they didn't come to check up on us yet."

That was only half true and both boys were aware of it. Even so, they waited patiently for anyone to come and see them. They hated being kept in the dark in such a way.

Finally, the door clicked open, making Ed and Al tense. Their eagerness was subdued, however, for it turned out to be lieutenant Hawkeye and Hughes. Riza stopped momentarily on her tracks, her doe-like eyes fixed on the emaciated form of Al.

"So it's true," she murmured, and a small smile appeared on her lips. "You finally got your bodies back."

"Hard to believe, right?" Maes said, a big grin gracing his features. "So, Ed, how are you feeling?"

Ed frowned. "Frankly, I don't know," he answered truthfully. He motioned his right hand, all the while staring at it. "I keep thinking that it didn't really happen, but it ismy arm."

Riza nodded her understanding. "It's only natural. You will get used to the idea sooner or later."

"Actually it will take me more time to get used to the idea that I won't have a clanking, hollow suit of armour following me around all the time," the teen alchemist replied, regarding Al teasingly.

Al couldn't help but chuckle as well, albeit weakly. "I think that makes two of us, brother," he said, and he faced Maes. "How's the Colonel, mr. Hughes?"

Hughes straightened his glasses. "It was touch and go for a while, but he'll live. They placed him a couple of rooms away from here, so you can go see him when he wakes up."

"Just what I needed. Watching Mustang flirting with every nurse that will be fawning over him," Ed said with a snort. His mirth was short-lived, however. Overwhelmed by curiosity, he decided to ask what had really been plaguing his mind. "What about Beregond? Any news from him?"

Riza's jaw tightened at that, and Hughes practically flinched; that was something Ed didn't like at all.

"What's wrong?"

That was probably a question that crossed Al's mind as well, for he looked at Riza and Hughes apprehensively too.

The woman exchanged a brief glance with Hughes. When Hughes nodded in silent agreement, Riza finally spoke.

"The doctors have managed to stabilise his condition after treating his broken arm and the burns on his chest. He opened his eyes about a quarter of an hour ago."

"So that's good, right?" Al asked, hope quite audible in his voice.

"It should have been," Riza answered.

"But…?" Ed said, his hands clenched into fists.

"But… he's unresponsive, Edward. For the last quarter of an hour, he's been staring ahead without acknowledging any presence or sound within the room."

Ed was sure that he heard Al gasping, but he couldn't do even that; he was too stunned. Beregond was actually…?

No. No, it wasn't that. It wasn't that at all. Ed shook his head and laughed before he could help it. Everyone stared at him in shock, probably wondering if he had gone mad. But Ed didn't care, for he had already figured it out.

"Brother…" Al started.

"I can't believe you guys fell for it again," Ed said, still laughing. "It's that same old trick again." It had to be.

Riza bit her lower lip, looking at him almost pitifully now. "Edward…"

"No," Ed said, holding up his hand. "I'm telling you, he's doing it again. He probably got scared by the doctors and he's faking a mental breakdown all over again."

"Ed…" Hughes placed a hand on the young man's shoulder; but Ed pulled away angrily.

"No! I'm telling you, he's faking it!" he snapped. "He just needs to see a familiar face, that's all."

"Ed… I was there. I called him by name," Hughes said softly. "He didn't respond."

"No!" They had to be wrong; they had to be. "Where is he?"

"He's in the next room… Edward!"

But Ed didn't stop to listen to Riza. He rushed out of the room and burst into the one where Beregond was.

"Beregond? It's me."

Yet the Gondorian didn't move. He remained on his bed, his lips parted and a dead gaze in his eyes.

"Damn it, it's not funny, okay?" the young man exclaimed, and he grabbed the man by the shoulders. "I know you can hear me!"

There was no answer, nothing that showed that Beregond acknowledged his surroundings.

"Just look at me, will you?" Ed said, his voice hoarsening with emotion. His hands clenched around the man's shirt and he shook him violently. "Do something!"

Beregond simply lay there, and Ed felt the blood boiling in his veins.

"SNAP OUT OF IT!" he screamed, the sound of a slap filling the air.

"ED, THAT'S ENOUGH!" At the next moment, Hughes wrapped his arms around the young man and tried to pull him away, but Ed kept struggling against him. He had seen Beregond blink and lift his gaze to look at him.

"No, let me go! I'm telling you, he's faking it!" Ed kept crying. "WAKE UP!"

But all his pleas fell into deaf ears.

Ed sat on the chair, keeping his head bowed and his elbows resting on his knees. His bangs hid his face from the rest of the world, and he refused to look up even when Hughes tried to talk to him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Al was wringing his hands in a nervous manner and keeping his gaze on the door. The younger brother was just as worried about Beregond as Ed, and he wanted to know what was wrong with the Gondorian.

Finally, the door opened, and a man in his late thirties came in. He looked briefly at everyone present in the room, and his eyes immediately rested on Riza's form.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye…" he said, and he extended his hand in a handshake. "I'm sorry we're meeting under such bad circumstances."

"I agree, Dr. Thornlace," Riza replied, completing the handshake. She motioned her free hand in the direction of the boys and Maes. "This is Brigadier General Hughes, a friend of Beregond's, and these are Edward and Alphonse; Beregond served as their escort."

"Are you a doctor?" Ed asked, his amber-coloured eyes practically piercing the man though. This wasn't the time for introductions. He just wanted answers.

Thornlace nodded politely. "Indeed. A psychologist, to be exact."

Ed snorted. "Then your services aren't required. Beregond doesn't need a shrink."

"Edward!" Riza exclaimed, but Thornlace waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

"I know he doesn't. That's why _I'm _here," he said. "I specialize in the connections between the three basic parts of a human existence. Need I remind you what they are, Mr. Elric?"

Ed huffed. "The body, the mind and the soul."

"Exactly," Thornlace said, and he took a seat. "I saw your escort, Mr. Elric. This is nothing wrong with him physically, and he _does _react to extreme external stimuli. You slapped him, correct?" he smiled a bit when Ed glared at him. "You made quite the commotion. One of the doctors, a certain Dr. Beckett, told me all about it upon my arrival."

"Fine, I did. Sue me. Did you check on Beregond or what?" Ed asked, still keeping the doctor under his piercing gaze.

Thornlace, however, sighed. "I know what you hope for, but I'm afraid I'll only disappoint you," he said. "Mr. Beregond sees, but he can't recognize anything. He can hear, but the sounds mean nothing to him. He can't move without assistance and, if he's in any way aware of his current situation, he isn't able to speak of it."

"But he looked at brother…" Al said softly.

Thornlace shook his head. "It was a mere reflex. No different than how an animal would have reacted to a violent act."

"What does that mean?" Maes asked, although something in his tone indicated that he already suspected the answer.

Thornlace pursed his lips for a brief moment.

"It means that the entire personality, the complex feelings and thoughts that defined your friend as Beregond… are gone."


	17. Breaking Point

In the next few days, it looked like the whole world changed. The radio kept buzzing concerning news about the end of the war with Drachma, and the return of the soldiers to Amestris. There didn't seem to be a sign of King Bradley anywhere, and there had been speculations that he had escaped out of the country. No one was identified as the Führer's associate either, so no more prosecutions took place. The parliament simply decided it was high time for elections, an event that hadn't taken place in almost forty years.

Roy had finally got his dream come true, and he hadn't been the only one. Winry and Scieszka came all the way from Rizenbul as soon as they had heard that Ed and Al had their bodies returned to them, and the first thing that the young mechanic was to place a kiss on Al's lips. That kind of reunion was almost mirrored by Maes upon seeing Gracia again. Havoc wasn't an exception, either. Even the news of his wedding with Sarah was well received, and everyone handed their congratulations to the young would-be wedded. Izumi, on the other hand, took another step forward in her relationship with Sig after her own ordeals; the young baby that was recovered from the underground hideout would need loving parents to raise him, and she offered to take care of it.

Even so, there was still one matter that had everyone confused and saddened. Several days later, Beregond was still in his comatose-state without showing any signs of improvement. The world shifted all around him, but he remained lying on the bed, motionless and unchanging.

That was how Al found him on a quiet evening, and the young boy wasn't surprised in the least. It was always like that now, a sort of established routine. Since he had gotten stronger, he would sneak out of his room with letting a sleeping Ed notice him, and he would go inside Beregond's room. Though the Gondorian never seemed to realise that there was someone else in the same room with him, Al tried not to think about it; that train of thought wouldn't help anyone.

"Hey…" he whispered, as if he was afraid that he would wake up the man from his strange slumber. For indeed, Beregond gave the impression that he was sleeping. He had his eyes closed, and his breathing was even and deep. "I'm back."

Naturally, Al didn't get an answer back, but that didn't stop him. He walked up to Beregond and sat on the chair next to the man's bed. His hands reached for one of the Gondorian's and clasped it tightly. At first, Al was almost stunned to feel the palm so very hardened, obviously after years of wielding the sword. But then he realised just _why _he was so stunned at that kind of sensation.

This was the first time that he knew, _really _knew, what Beregond's skin felt like.

"This isn't fair," he murmured before he could help it. "You always said that I was still that boy in the picture you found, no matter what I looked like. But I wanted you to see me in my body. It would be so good to see your smile as I thanked you for everything you've done for my brother and me. Because… I honestly don't know how things would have turned out if you hadn't been there, helping us in every step of the way." Al lowered his gaze, and his hands rubbed the calloused knuckles. "I know you'd probably say that you hardly helped, but… you did. In more ways than you think. Even if you didn't have to fight Homunculi or solve an alchemic mystery, you offered a listening ear and a kind word when we needed it the most." A smile tugged on his lips. "Just don't tell Ed I said that. He'll just say I'm being corny."

Al's smile faded on his lips when he saw that Beregond had opened his eyes in the meantime and looked straight into the boy's eyes. Al almost flinched, yet a part of him just wondered if that reaction actually meant…

"Beregond? Do you understand me?"

"He can't. It's just reflex, remember?"

Al turned around, stunned. Ed was indeed standing on the threshold, and he was regarding at the scene before him in an almost tired manner. The younger boy stood up at once, only to regret it at the next moment as a very bad case of nausea hit him hard.

"Whoa, easy, Al," Ed said, reaching his brother in just a couple of strides to offer his support. "You haven't fully recovered yet."

"Yeah, I know," Al answered, relieved that his dizzy feeling subsided. "You kind of startled me, that's all."

"Sorry," Ed said and helped his brother back on the chair. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Al wrung his hands. "I wanted to talk to him. They say that's what you should do when people are in a coma."

"So _we _can feel better, not them, Al," Ed pointed out with a huff.

That hurt more than Al cared to admit. That was probably something Ed must have realised as well, for his expression softened. He even pulled up a chair and sat next to his brother.

"What were you telling him anyway?"

Al shrugged a bit. "Not much," he replied honestly enough. "I was just remembering." He smiled and faced his brother. "He really came a long way, didn't he?"

Ed nodded his agreement. "Do you remember how nervous he was when he first arrived here?"

"Yeah," Al said. "He was like a lost puppy or something."

"And the way he'd just blink whenever he didn't understand one phrase or other."

"His mistakes always made me laugh."

"That's right," Ed said, chuckling. He feigned a shudder. "Remember when Havoc tried to teach him how to use a gun?"

Al laughed. "'You shot with your eyes _closed?_'" he quoted, imitating Havoc's incredulity to a tee.

"'Well, it worked, didn't it?"' Ed replied, mimicking Beregond's sheepishness.

"Oh! And do you remember when he entered the room just when I had polished the floor?"

"I had never seen anyone sliding from one side of the room to the other so fast," Ed said, laughing out loud along with Al.

And yet that kind of mirth didn't last long. Al sobered again, and looked at his brother.

"Still… he did pretty amazing things too. I mean… he even talked you into drinking milk." Al ran his hand through Beregond's hair, noticing how the man closed his eyes and unwittingly leant closer to the touch. "I'd kill to know how he pulled that off."

"He transmuted it into cheese."

Al instantly turned, caught by surprise. "What?"

Ed didn't answer at once. He just let out a sigh and leaned forward, both elbows resting against his knees and his eyes locked on the comatose form before them. "He told me that he used to hate milk, too; gagged at the mere sight of it. So his mother would give him cheese. He loved that."

Al's eyes widened as he finally caught on. "He did the same with you," he said.

Ed nodded, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Cheese is the most wonderful thing in the world."

"I didn't remember that," Al said thoughtfully.

"Mum would give me a bit at times, but never in front of you. She thought you might decide you didn't like milk either," Ed explained, his smile broadening just a tad, only to disappear in moments. "After she was gone, I tried to transmute some, but it wasn't the same. It was tasty but… I couldn't enjoy it. Not the way I used to. I guess… because Mum wasn't around to actually give me that kind of treat, meant only for me." He sighed, and his amber-coloured eyes drifted again on Beregond's form. "And then he transmuted the milk… for me… and I could enjoy cheese again." A tired chuckle escaped his lips, and he turned to Al. "Then I sort of made it a habit. I asked him and Beregond transmuted the milk. Every time. He never asked me why I couldn't do this myself, being the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People; he didn't get annoyed once at such a constant kiddy request. He'd just do it with a smile that reminded me…" He stopped as an uncomfortable lump settled on his throat, and it took all his will power to bypass it.

"I guess I should apologise to you for telling you off when you said he was in many ways like Mum."

And then Ed clenched his hands together forcefully, glaring at them in the hopes of somehow stopping them from trembling.

It was to no avail.

"And now he's gone."

The last phrase was spoken so softly and brokenly that it undid Alphonse. Tears sprang up in the younger boy's eyes and a sob tore from his chest before it could be helped.

At that, Ed wrapped his arms around his little brother's shuddering shoulders and let him cry in the comfort of his embrace, finally offering him the warmth that he hadn't been able to give him the last five years.

* * *

Ed didn't know how long he had remained seated in the same spot, still holding Al in his arms. Finally, when grief proved too draining for Al's weak body and the young boy surrendered himself to the sweet oblivion that sleep offered, Ed placed him on a small couch nearby and exited. He needed some time alone to clear his head.

What he didn't expect was to come across Izumi. The woman was sitting on a comfortable chair in the corridor, her arms wrapped around a small bundle of clothing. Ed smiled before he even realised it, for he knew who was in that small bundle.

"Hello, Teacher," he said softly; he didn't want to disturb the baby. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Since when do you mother me?" Izumi replied, though she didn't sound indignant at all. Ed easily detected a teasing quality in her words. "I felt like walking for a while."

"What about Mr. Curtis?"

"He's gone to warm some milk for the baby," Izumi said, caressing the little sleepy face. "He's going to get hungry soon."

"So you're really keeping him?"

She nodded. "I don't know for how much longer I'll be around… But I'll make sure he knows I'll always be there for him."

"I'm sure he will," the teen alchemist said, and he meant it. Though Rose was gone, the baby would stay in good hands.

"Do you want to hold him?"

Ed blinked, taken aback at the question. "I'm sorry. What?"

Izumi's eyes narrowed into a glare. "I'm trying to be nice. I asked you if you want to hold him."

"Oh, right… Sure," Ed replied at once, trying to hide the squeak from his voice; mother or not, Izumi was still a force to be reckoned with. As soon as he stretched his arms, the woman handed him the baby, making sure that he wasn't woken up at the motion. A few moments later, Ed was staring down at a round sleepy face, and caught himself smiling.

"This is amazing," he murmured, and he faced Izumi. "So what are you going to call him?"

Izumi shrugged. "I don't know. Got any suggestions?"

Ed shook his head. "Al is better at this than I am, but… I don't want to disturb him."

"Is he still with your friend?" Izumi asked, aware what Ed was implying.

"He's hardly left his side," the teen alchemist said. "I don't understand how he can stand it. Just watching Beregond, knowing that he can't do anything to change that. It feels… wrong somehow."

"Feeling useless always feels wrong," Izumi pointed out softly. "You hate that. Don't you?"

Ed settled with a simple nod as an answer, and he absentmindedly played with one of the baby's little hands. He sensed Izumi's eyes on him, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to say something more. In the end, just when he was about to discard such thoughts as figments of his imagination, Izumi dug out a piece of paper out of her pocket.

"This is his, by the way," she said. "One of the nurses found it in his clothes and she decided to give it to me; I assured her that I'd keep it safe. It's addressed to you."

Ed frowned at that; nevertheless he returned the baby to Izumi and took the piece of paper. The teen alchemist was puzzled to see that the handwriting _was _Beregond's, and it was indeed a letter intended for Ed.

"I'll leave you to your reading," the woman said, standing up. A few moments later, Izumi and the baby were gone out of sight, leaving Ed alone with his thoughts and the letter. Curiosity overwhelming him, the teen alchemist sat down on the chair and started reading carefully.

_Edward,_

_I'm not even sure why I started writing this letter in the first place. After all, I can just as easily say everything to you face to face, can't I? You've always said that I can trust you, and you have proven it to me more than just a few times._

_The trouble is… it's not that easy to tell you. Whenever I have the chance to speak, the words simply die in my throat. Probably because the things I want to say to you feel too much like a goodbye. I suppose they are. I don't know anymore. But now, as the end draws so near that it's almost tangible, I realise that I'm swiftly running out of precious time that I can't reclaim, not this time._

_So, here it is: Ed, thank you for everything you've done for me. I know how unfair it must be that I was offered two lifetimes when you and your brother barely tasted the one you're already living. Even so, you found it in your heart to accept me for who I am. This world became a less terrifying place for a Gondorian who couldn't even say his name upon his arrival here._

_Perhaps I will survive to see you and your brother getting your bodies back. But even if I don't… I'd like to think that my death won't be in vain. Who knows, maybe that was what I was supposed to do in the first place ever since I arrived: to safeguard those who needed my protection._

_I know that will probably have you frowning – you don't believe in fate. Still, promise me, regardless of what happens to me, that you'll carry on with the same courage you've faced all your ordeals. In the end, that's the one thing that helps us move on, whether it's courage derived from the strength of our will… or from faith to those who are far wiser and older than us._

_Don't worry about me. It was never your place._

"You were right. They do sound like a goodbye," Ed murmured under his breath. "Stupid Gondorian."

Yet he folded the letter and put in his journal with utmost care, trying to control the trembling in his hands. It was all he could do to stop himself from punching the wall behind him, crying out his frustration.


	18. Faith

The next few days went by so fast that Ed had hardly noticed it; he was too focused on taking care of Al and staying by Beregond's side. And though he was pleased to see his brother getting stronger with each passing day, it was also nerve-wracking to see no change in the Gondorian's condition. Every time he was in that room, every time the nurses came in to check the man's vital signs, wash him, or feed him, Beregond allowed himself to be manhandled with the same dead gaze and the apathy of someone broken beyond repair. Dr. Thornlace and Beckett – a man with a kind face and grey eyes that seemed to look into one's soul – tried to sound positive, that there was still a chance that Beregond would recover. But Ed knew now that it was hopeless.

"No change then?" Roy asked, sitting up on his bed, wincing a bit. His shoulder was far from healed, after all. He certainly wished he could have been discharged of the hospital, like Izumi Curtis – then he would have some proper rest.

"No, Sir," Al answered softly, casting a brief look in Ed's direction. The boys had gone to Roy's room to visit the injured colonel, but Ed hadn't said a word while there.

"Dammit!"

Roy and the boys turned to the direction of Havoc, but the blond man simply got up from his chair and started pacing up and down the room.

"Havoc, calm down," Roy said.

"With all due respect, Sir, I can't," Havoc replied, clearly upset. "This is wrong; it shouldn't have turned out this way."

"There is nothing more that can be done," Roy reasoned. "Beregond has made his choice."

"Imagine that! He always believed the Valar decided on his fate," Havoc retorted. "And he once told me that they would never have send him in this world if he weren't meant to offer something in it."

"And he already has," Roy said. "He helped Ed and Al, he helped uncover an entire conspiracy, he gained knowledge in Alchemy that others could only dream… It's more than enough!"

"'As long as I breathe, I have something left undone'. Those where his exact words," Havoc said. "And you know what? He still breathes!"

Both Ed and Al stared at Havoc with eyes wide open, the words almost stunning them.

"You're right," Ed murmured as realisation dawned on him. "Maybe… just maybe… it's time we acted on _his _faith."

Roy frowned. "What are you talking about, Ed?"

"Dr. Marcoh," the teen alchemist explained, talking fast in his excitement. "He's gotta have more red stones that we can use to bring Beregond back!"

"That's right," Al exclaimed. "He could cure almost anything with them!"

"And he no longer needs to hide – it's safe for him to come here," Roy mused, rubbing his chin in thought. "So when are you planning to go?"

"As soon as possible," Ed answered, standing up. "I'm gonna call Winry to get me a ticket from the station."

"Make that two," Al declared.

Ed shook his head at that, though. "No way, Al. You're still not strong enough."

"I want to help, too. So you either let me come with you or I'll chase after you. That's the only two choices you have, Brother."

"Al…" Ed started.

"No! My mind's made up, so you'd better accept it," Al retorted.

Ed opened his mouth to voice his protests but he stopped midway. His brother's gaze was unwavering, and it was obvious that he would stand his ground. The young man sighed in resignation.

"Fine. Two it is." But it was clear he _was _glad Al would be coming; his lips tugged into a small smile.

Al grinned, positively beaming.

* * *

It had been hard to convince the doctors to discharge Al, but, in the end, Ed had managed it. So, almost an hour later, the two boys were heading toward the Central Station, looking every which way for a sign of Winry. She had told them that she would meet them on their way, the tickets in hand so they would board the train immediately. But the boys didn't expect to see the young mechanic with company. Indeed, they could see the familiar figures of Sig and Izumi, their adopted baby in his new mother's arms, as well as Scieszka and Falman.

"Finally!" Winry said with a huff. "I thought you two would never come."

"Well, excuse us!" Al retorted though there was a big smile tugging his lips, "we didn't have our own personal chauffer to drive us here."

"Sorry, boys, you should have called and asked, just like Scieszka here did," Falman said, nodding in the bespectacled girl's direction. Scieszka just blushed at that statement.

"Speaking of which, how come you're here, Scieszka?" Ed asked, perplexed. "You didn't have to come and see us off."

"Actually, I kinda did," Scieszka replied, straightening her glasses. "Do you remember that book you had asked me to copy for you?"

For a moment, Ed wasn't what Scieszka was talking about, but realisation finally caught up with him. "Yeah. Did you finish it?"

She nodded with a smile and dug out of her bag the manuscript. "Here it is. I figured you might want to read it before you see Dr. Marcoh."

In all honesty, Ed wasn't sure he'd be able to read anything in the trip; he was too focused on finding Dr. Marcoh. Even so, he couldn't find it in his heart to refuse the girl's present, so he reached out and took it.

"Thanks, Scieszka," he said. "I owe you one."

The bespectacled girl smiled and straightened her glasses. Izumi, however, had one last thing to say, too.

"Just because you got your bodies back, it doesn't mean you should forget what I taught you. Keep sharp!"

"Yes, Teacher," Ed said and he bowed his head. "Thank you for everything you've done for my brother and me."

"No thanks needed; you were persistent runts," she said, although there was an affectionate tone in her voice. "And you're welcome to Dublith any time you want."

"Sounds great," the teen alchemist said. He turned around at the sound of a whistle, a sign that another train was about to depart. _Their _train.

"Okay, Al, that's us," Ed declared. "Let's go and… Dammit, we're in public!"

Al drew back from Winry, looking flushed. "Sorry, Brother. I was just… saying bye to Winry."

"That must have been hard, what with your tongue down her throat and everything," Ed said in a dry tone. "Just grab the tickets."

"Here you go," she said with a smile and she handed them to Al. "Be careful."

"I'm always careful," Al replied with a grin.

Ed decided that this was getting ridiculous. "Al!"

The younger brother remembered himself. "Coming!" he said, one hand holding the tickets and the other his suitcase.

"You'd better," Ed said with a huff, walking towards the train. "What's with you anyway? Can't you keep your hands to yourself anymore?"

"I can't help it, Ed! I'm finally able to hug her without being afraid of crushing her."

"So you decided to celebrate by traumatising your own brother."

"Says the one who couldn't get his eyes off Clause in that dress!"

"I was shocked, that's all."

"Is that what they call it these days?" Al asked, chuckling.

"I'm warning you, Al!" Ed answered, holding a fist in mock threat.

Winry watched the two boys walking, their playful banter getting swallowed by the train whistling its departure, and she couldn't help but smile. It was good to see Ed and Al together and more importantly, with their bodies restored. Athough a part of her would miss Ed's automail, she wasn't willing to change that for the world.

"Miss Rockbell?" Falman said at that moment, cutting into her train of thought. "Would you like to go back to Brigadier General Hughes' house?"

Winry shook her head. "No. I think I should go to the hospital for a while if it's okay with you, Mr. Falman."

Falman nodded politely. "No problem. Mr. and Mrs Curtis?"

"It's fine, we'll walk…" Izumi started, but Sig placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Remember what the doctor said, dear," he said gently. "There's no reason to tire yourself."

Izumi looked up at her husband, quirking an eyebrow as he regarded him dubiously. Finally, though, she smiled warmly.

"You always know how to take care of me," she said in an affectionate tone, and then she addressed Falman. "You can drive us back to our hotel."

"As you wish," the warrant officer said, and he beckoned everyone to follow him to the car. Winry settled in the back seat, and she remained staring out the window during the whole drive. She didn't feel all that talkative, not when all sorts of thoughts started filling her mind and troubling her. So engrossed she had become that she had barely registered the car halting in front of Mr. and Mrs Curtis' hotel. And, naturally, she hardly noticed when Falman came to a stop in front of the hospital.

"Miss Rockbell? We're here."

"Oh, right," she murmured, and she stepped out of the car with a brief thanks to the warrant officer. Her legs felt as if they led her on their own accord to the entrance of the hospital, then straight to Beregond's room. And when she arrived there, taking in the sight of the Gondorian lying on the bed, she simply sat on the chair at his side, watching him lost in his strange, mindless slumber while a single thought, very much like prayer, echoed in her mind.

_Don't give up._

* * *

"Well, Ms. Scieszka? What are you going to do now?" Falman asked, regarding the young woman curiously. They were both walking side by side in the hallway, speaking in soft tones so as not to disturb the patients resting in their rooms.

"I'm not sure," Scieszka replied, straightening her glasses. "I could go home, I suppose. You'll probably want to visit the colonel, so I shouldn't be in your way."

"You aren't," Falman said in reassurance. "Besides, I'm certain Lieutenant Hawkeye is with the Colonel right now; they have a lot to talk about."

"Oh, I see," Scieszka said softly.

There was silence for a few moments, and they both stood awkwardly still, as if they expected something from the other. Finally, Falman spoke first.

"Ms. Scieszka?"

"Yes?" Scieszka replied at once, eyes locking on Falman.

Falman shifted on his legs, obviously unsure as to how to proceed. "Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? My treat."

Scieszka smiled, a blush creeping on her cheeks. "I'd like that."

Beaming at the answer, Falman extended his arm like a true gentleman, and Scieszka took it gladly.

* * *

A long whistle forced Ed out of the land of dreams, almost throwing him out of his seat. Blinking, he checked his surroundings in an attempt to grasp what was going on, but Al's voice calmed him down.

"It's okay, Brother. We're here."

"We are?" Ed asked and he looked outside the window. Sure enough, he saw the familiar cosy houses of the town. Marcoh lived in, outlined against the firey sky of dawn. "Heh… now that was quick."

"That, and you were pretty out of it most of the time," Al pointed out with a cheeky grin before picking up his suitcase. "Now come on."

Ed couldn't help but smile at his brother's eagerness. After being trapped in a suit of armour for more than five years, he was finally getting acquainted with all five of his senses once more. Smell, touch, hearing, taste and vision washed through the younger boy like a tidal wave, almost overwhelming him. It was a long missed feeling.

It also gave Ed one more reason to try and repay Beregond's kindness by helping him back. He just hoped that Dr. Marcoh would be willing to follow them back to Central.

Soon afterwards, Ed and Al were knocking on the doctor's door. However, neither of the boys expected to get only silence for an answer. Frowning, Ed decided to try again.

"Dr. Marcoh?" he said, knocking again; but there was no reply.

"Do you think he's out?" Al mused aloud.

"At this time of day? Very unlikely," Ed answered before knocking a third time. "Dr. Marcoh!"

"Then he's probably asleep," Al argued. "Give him time!"

"He should have answered by now," Ed pointed out, looking at the windows. "Something's wrong. I can definitely tell."

"Then we'd better find out what," Al said and he reached for the doorknob. To his surprise, the door opened with a light creaking sound, indicating that the house was unlocked.

The boys exchanged a brief glance, the same thought crossing their minds. This wasn't a mere coincidence; someone wanted them to walk in, leading them into a trap.

_I'll go first, _Ed declared by pointing quietly to himself. _You stay close behind._

Al understood and complied with the silent suggestion. Their footsteps sounded hollowly on the wooden floor as they stepped inside the house, all their senses on the ready. But the house looked empty.

Ed waved his hand, telling Al in this way that they should stop, and then he pricked up his ears in the hopes of picking up any sort of unfamiliar sound.

The minutes ticked by, and nothing happened. All that Ed could really hear was the rapid thumbing in his chest as he still kept waiting with bated breath.

Finally, he heard it. It was barely audible, but Ed was sure it was someone shuffling his legs. Looking back at Al, he nodded just once, telling his brother to be ready; then held up three fingers and started a countdown.

_Three, two, one…_

In the next moment, both brothers lunged forward, forcing another door open and bursting into the next room.

"Well, well… it certainly took you long enough, pipsqueak," Envy said, a toothy grin on his lips as he tightened his grip on Dr. Marcoh.

TBC...


	19. One Last Obstacle

Ed clenched his jaw, still staring at the scene that unfolded before him. A part of him wanted to believe that this wasn't happening, that it was some kind of a bad joke or a nightmare. But it wasn't so. Envy was really standing in the centre of the room with a manic grin on his face and holding Dr. Marcoh at knife point. The doctor himself was gagged, his eyes reflecting his terror as the blade grazed his throat, almost breaking the skin.

"So…" Ed said. "I guess now we know what became of you. You just showed your heels and ran like the coward you are."

"I'm not planning on dying before I watch you suffer," Envy replied, his voice resembling a growl. "You may have gotten your bodies, but was it worth the price? Or did you mean to make a vegetable out of your precious dog?"

"How do you know about Beregond?" Al asked, looking at the homunculus.

Envy clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Really, Alphonse, dear brother of mine… I thought you would have known me by now. Just because you don't see me, it doesn't mean I'm not behind you, wearing the face of a dear friend and ready to tear your heart out." He looked at Ed, his grin becoming crueller. "You know the feeling, don't you?"

"Then why this?" Ed asked angrily. "If we were at your mercy as you claim, why are you willing to drag an innocent man into this?"

"Now that's a good question," Envy admitted. "Yet the answer is as simple as they come: you don't deserve an easy death. And when I heard about the poor Gondorian's state, I knew I had quite the golden opportunity in my hands."

"What does Dr. Marcoh have to do with anything?" Al demanded exasperatedly. "He's of no use to you!"

"He is to you, and that's enough!" Envy cried. "It will be gratifying to know that you will spend the rest of your lives watching your friend ebb away, his mind lost forever, while tormenting yourselves with the inescapable guilt that you could have saved him but didn't."

Ed tensed as a terrible suspicion crawled in the back of his mind. "What have you done?"

Envy's grin didn't waver for a second as he nodded to his left. Ed and Al looked in the same direction, horrified to see that all the vials that at one time or other contained Red Water were destroyed, shattered on the floor.

"NO!" Al exclaimed.

"Where is it?" Ed demanded, glaring at the homunculus. "What have you done with the water?"

"Technically, it wasn't water anymore. And I _was _hungry…" Envy replied, licking his lips purposefully.

"You bastard…" Ed murmured, barely keeping his temper in check.

"No more than you," Envy said. "And now for the final act. Say your goodbyes to Dr. Marcoh."

Both boys gasped, knowing what that meant. They lunged forward, hoping to stop Envy before it was too late; but it wasn't meant to be. Blood spilt everywhere as the homunculus slashed the doctor's throat and then shoved him away like an unclean thing.

"Al!" Ed cried.

"On it!" Al cried back, rushing at Dr. Marcoh's spasming form.

If Envy meant to stop Al, he never had the chance. Ed had placed a well-aimed kick on the homunculus's jaw, only to punch him on the stomach in the next moment.

Envy sprang back, barely fazed. "Heh… I didn't even feel a thing. Makes you wish you had your automail back, doesn't it?"

"Then let's try again!" Ed declared, clapping his hands. A spear sprang from the floor amid the crackling sound and lights of alchemical reaction, and the young alchemist grabbed it with one hand.

"Time to die," he declared, setting himself in attack position, and then charged for the kill.

Meanwhile, Al had troubles of his own. He had placed a piece of cloth on Dr. Marcoh's throat in the hopes of somehow stopping the bleeding, but now it looked like an impossible task. Dr. Marcoh was losing too much blood and too fast. He was dying and there was nothing Al could do.

"Doctor, please… I don't know how to help you…" he whispered tearfully as he watched the life fading from the man's eyes. "How can I close the wound?"

Dr. Marcoh didn't say anything, nor did he attempt to. He simply patted the boy's hand, looking at the dove-grey eyes with a look of sympathy.

"No! Doctor, please! You've got to stay alive! Beregond needs you!" Al shouted, and he pressed the cloth further. "Don't give up now!"

What happened next took the young boy by utter shock.

Ed attacked again, but Envy sidestepped with the grace of a feline before the spear would harm him. Seething, Ed lunged forward, sliding part of the way to knock the homunculus off his feet. Envy was still faster, though; he just grabbed the spear and yanked it away from the young alchemist's hands, a broad grin on his features.

"You know… you really ought to learn from your mistakes, Ed," Envy declared, snapping the spear in two. "Every time that you try to fight me, you either end up hurt or killed."

Ed tried to get on his feet, but Envy managed a kick on his jaw that threw him back on the floor.

"I can do this forever," Envy taunted, and he grabbed both Ed's arms, preventing the alchemist from clapping. "That's more than I can say about you! What makes you think that you can defeat me now, when I'm as strong as ever?"

Ed struggled to get himself free, but it was in vain. Envy was just too heavy, and his grip too tight.

"You should simply accept your fate," Envy suggested. "It will be easier for both of us."

_Never!_ Ed's thoughts reached to a scream as he desperately fought on against the homunculus. He had to get his hands free, he had to win; he didn't want Beregond's sacrifice to be in vain. He had to keep fighting, no matter what!

His hands moved, just a bit, but it was enough. In the next instant, his overcoat was alchemised intro strong bonds around Envy's hands and feet. The homunculus was so stunned that he didn't have time to react as he lost his balance, giving Ed his chance to get up. He stared at his hands incredulously, then back at Envy… and everything fell into place.

"How is that possible?" Envy asked, doing his best to break the makeshift ropes. "You couldn't clap!"

"Someone I know once told me, 'Think your enemy has a weakness and it becomes his strength," Ed answered, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You just made that mistake, Envy."

Envy snarled and broke his bonds, but Ed was ready for him. He waved his hands once and a great spike emerged from the wall, piercing the homunculus's stomach through and through. Blood burst out of Envy's mouth, but he didn't give up. He broke the spike in two with a single punch and took out the remaining piece from his body.

"Interesting tactics, Ed, but futile," he said, licking the blood from his lips. "I'll always keep coming back for you!"

"The hell you are," Ed said, waving his hand again, a deadly glare in his eyes.

Envy grinned, his wounds already closing. But then, all mirth left him as he doubled over in pain and writhed on the floor helplessly. Scream after scream left his lips, and his violet eyes widened tenfold.

"What is… happening… to me?" he managed to utter amid his screams.

"Red water poisoning," Ed answered coldly. "I pierced your stomach open and then I liquefied the stones in it so that they entered your system unprocessed and raw. Even your body can't metabolise the red stones in that state, so your organs are getting deconstructed from the inside." The teen alchemist stepped closer, his amber-coloured gaze locked on Envy's writhing form. "Congratulations, Envy. You're dying."

"You little…!"

Envy never managed to finish his sentence, for another series of screams tore off his chest. Even those, however, started growing hoarser by the minute, and tears sprang in the homunculus's eyes.

"So that's it?" he croaked, glaring at the boy. "You're just gonna stand there and watch me die?"

"For someone who enjoyed inflicting pain to others, you sure can't take any pain yourself," Ed all but snarled. "All these lives you've toyed with, all these people you've killed… Tell me one good reason why I should show you any mercy."

"Who's asking you to?" Envy said. "You are the bastard's son! I didn't expect anything less than this from you!"

Ed smirked. "Yeah, I guess I am." But then the rage in his heart calmed and his features softened upon his brow. "But you were once his son, too, and I don't think he'd want this."

With that, Ed waved his hand once more and put an end to Envy's agony; the spike he alchemised ran through the homunculus's chest in a heartbeat. Envy spasmed just once, and then his eyes emptied of all life and he breathed no more. The last of the homunculi was gone at last.

Ed wanted to rejoice, he really did. But he just remained on the same spot as if rooted there, numbness almost overwhelming him. That is, until he remembered himself and willed his limbs to move once more so that he would find Al. He didn't dare think what awaited him in the next room, but he also had to know if everything had truly been in vain.

"Al?" he said, stepping slowly in the room.

He found him kneeling by Dr. Marcoh, his hands covered in blood. However, Ed didn't expect to see Dr. Marcoh sitting up weakly, checking himself and no slash in his throat.

Ed felt his eyes widening. "Al?"

Al finally faced his brother, an almost identical look of shock on his features.

"I… I don't know how it happened," he stammered. "It was almost as if… I willed the wound closed. I didn't even clap!"

"I believe you," Ed said quietly. "I don't have to clap anymore either."

Al looked as though his jaw would drop on the floor. "We're like Beregond now."

"Yeah." Ed knelt beside Al and scrutinised the dazed man. "How are you, Dr. Marcoh?"

"Weak," he answered. His voice came out hoarse and he was still trying to catch his breath. "The homunculus?"

"Gone," Ed replied and left it at that. "Can you stand?"

"I'll try," Dr. Marcoh said, and he pushed himself back on his feet. In the next moment, though, he sagged against the boys, the effort proving too much.

"Whoa!" Ed exclaimed. He quickly offered his body for support and he helped Dr. Marcoh back on the chair.

"I'll bring some water," Al said, hurrying to the kitchen. Moments later, he appeared again with a glass in his hand, and he handed the man the precious liquid.

Nodding his thanks, Dr. Marcoh took a few sips and then placed the glass on the table.

"You feeling better now, Doctor?" Ed asked, still keeping his eyes on Marcoh. Though he couldn't see any evident injuries, Ed was still quite concerned.

"Yes," Dr. Marcoh answered, a smile flickering on his lips at last. "This is the second time I owe you my life, Fullmetal Alchemist." His gaze drifted at Ed's arm and then at Al. "So… you've succeeded. You've got your bodies back."

"We did. But we had hoped that you would be able to help us again," Al said wistfully.

"I see," the man said in a musing tone. "Am I right in guessing that it has to do with Sergeant Beregond?"

Ed nodded.

"What happened?"

The boys exchanged a look, and then they started explaining everything. As always, Ed was the one who did most of the talking, while Al nodded in affirmation every now and then. Dr. Marcoh, on the other hand, listened on with a grave expression on his face, the news of Beregond's condition clearly saddening him.

"That's why you came here then," he noted once the boys' tale was over. "You hoped I'd be able to cure him."

"Yeah," Ed answered. "But I guess Envy beat us to it."

"Dr. Marcoh? Is what Envy said true? Did he really destroy all the red stones?" Al asked, clearly hoping that the good doctor would say no.

Dr. Marcoh heaved a sigh, however. "I'm sorry, Alphonse."

Al closed his eyes and bowed his head; but Ed landed a fist on the table.

"Damn it! We're back to square one!" he cried. "Looks like Envy got his wish after all!"

"Brother, please, don't think like that…" Al started.

"Why shouldn't I?" Ed said. "That was our last hope, Al; and now it's gone! Beregond's gonna stay a vegetable and it's all our fault!"

"Edward, stop it!"

Ed wouldn't listen. He just stormed out of the house and ran out to the bright world outside, a violent contrast to the darkness that settled in the young man's heart. He kicked a stone that was on his path viciously, ignoring the pain on his foot at the impact, and then leaned against a rail, his hands gripping tightly the iron beams as he tried to calm himself.

_Why? Why can't it ever end?_ he asked himself desperately, even though he knew that he wouldn't get an answer. He never did before, and today wasn't going to be an exception.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Ed turned around slowly, regarding Dr. Marcoh quite tiredly. "No."

Dr. Marcoh shook his head. "Ed, you can't blame yourself for what happened to Sergeant Beregond. It was mere fate, bad luck."

"It wasn't," Ed said bitterly. "Beregond gave up his own life on purpose so that Al and I could get our bodies back. He knew exactly what he was doing."

"Did he now?" Dr. Marcoh said.

Something in that tone seemed off to Ed, and he looked back at the man.

"If he knew what he was doing, he knew exactly what he was giving up. It wasn't his life; he still breathes," Dr. Marcoh explained.

Ed blinked, catching up with Dr. Marcoh's train of thought. "It wasn't his knowledge either. Alphonse and I have it." He swallowed as the realisation made his throat go dry. "So what did he give up?"

"I don't know," Dr. Marcoh said. "But I can tell you this. He had no doubt in his mind that you would make things right again."

Ed's eyes widened, the familiar warmth of hope swelled in his heart. "He did. He always did…" He extended his hand to Dr. Marcoh, a smile tugging on his lips once more. "Thank you, Doctor. You've been very helpful."

"I certainly hope so," Dr. Marcoh replied, smiling. "You'd better hurry back to Central."

"Aren't you coming?" Ed asked, tilting his head. "You don't have to hide anymore."

"Yes, so I've heard," the man said. "But the people here need me more than Central ever will. This is my home now."

"I understand," Ed said, nodding. "Thank you again, Dr. Marcoh."

With that, the young alchemist turned on his heel and called to Al. With any luck, they would be able to catch the next train to Central. And when they arrived, both boys would be ready to bring Beregond back. Ed would make sure of that.

* * *

It was quite late at night when Havoc stepped inside Beregond's room, and he wasn't alone. Major Moser was with him, wishing to see the Gondorian. The Gondorian was in the bed (where else could he be, anyway?), and had his eyes closed. He gave no indication that he had heard the two men coming in.

Major Moser regarded the man closely, frowning. "Heh. You've already told me about his condition, but it's hard to believe it," he said. "The way his eyes move underneath his eyelids, I'd say he's just dreaming."

"It really fools you, doesn't it?" Havoc said, running his hand through his hair. "You know, it's funny. I can't help thinking that it's all some kind of a bad joke, or he'll just open his eyes and smile as if nothing happened."

"Yeah, stands to reason," Moser mused aloud. "It's strange to see someone who was so full of life to be so perfectly still. It makes you think there's something wrong with this world."

Havoc nodded, agreeing whole-heartedly. Just then, he pricked up his ears in surprise, for it was in that moment that the sound of light footsteps reached his ears. Before he had to figure out what was going on, Havoc was shocked to see Ed stepping inside the room with Al following close behind. The lieutenant opened his mouth to speak, yet the teen alchemist was faster.

"Hey, Havoc. Any change?"

"None," Havoc answered without thinking, and he looked at Ed curiously. "That was quick of you. Where's Dr. Marcoh?"

"He couldn't come," Ed replied. "And it doesn't matter anyway. Al and I have a plan."

Havoc wanted to be glad, but something stopped him. "What kind of plan?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Dr. Marcoh made us realise something," Ed explained. "Beregond didn't exchange his life for ours; he couldn't. It doesn't correspond to the law of equivalent exchange. So he gave up something else."

"Like what?" Havoc asked, confused.

"It doesn't matter what. What's important is that Beregond had enough knowledge to give up something by his own free will instead of having the Gate take it from him by force," Ed said. "If Al and I can pull that off, there's a chance we can bring Beregond back without giving up much. All we have to do is…"

"No."

Ed stared at Havoc, dumbfounded at the man's reaction. "What do you mean 'No'?"

"I mean exactly that," Havoc replied, feeling very angry. "Beregond is like this because he wanted you to get your bodies back. Now you just want to ruin everything by going back to the Gate?"

"You don't get it!" Ed said defensively. "On our way back here we read this book Scieszka gave us. We couldn't understand it at first, but now we know that they're instructions. Instructions that will help us control the Gate."

"No, it's you who doesn't get it!" Havoc answered. "A sacrifice is still a sacrifice, no matter how small it is. You, of all people, should know that! That's precisely what Beregond didn't want you to do for his sake!"

"Lieutenant Havoc, please," Al said then, keeping his tone as calm as possible. "We know that we're basically repeating our mistake. But if getting our bodies back means having someone else suffer in our place, then we'd rather go back to the way we were."

Havoc opened his mouth to object, yet no sound came out. He simply remained glaring at the boys for many long moments, until he finally shook his head.

"Um… Pardon me, everyone," Moser said, raising his hand. "You could use the red stones to avoid sacrificing anything vital. I hope you realise that."

Ed stared at the other alchemist as if he had just noticed his presence. "Actually, we do," he replied with a scowl. "But there are no more red stones."

"Heh… Hardly, Fullmetal," Major Moser said, and he dug out of his coat the pocket watch that served as a State Alchemist's identification tag. "You obviously forgot this."

"Sir," Al said, quite perplexed. "We know that the pocket watches have alchemical enhancers, but-"

Major Moser didn't let him continue; he just hit his pocket watch on the table nearby, breaking it open. The boys and Havoc watched the violent action in shock, only to gasp at the sight of a couple of stones slipping of the cracked lid.

Ed's gaze drifted from the stones to the man, his eyes wide. "H-How did you know about that?"

Moser smiled. "I'm the Rock Alchemist, remember? When I heard that the military did modifications on the watches _without _asking for my advice, I knew I had to look further into the matter."

"So… all the State Alchemists' watches have red stones in them?" Havoc said, aghast.

"Logically," Moser said. "They had asked for all the watches before we headed for Liore."

"Then there's no time to lose," Ed said. "Al, go to the Colonel and ask him for his watch; tell him what this is about. Havoc, you go and find Major Armstrong."

"Gotcha, Chief," Havoc answered, saluting. He headed to the exit, but stopped midway as another thought crossed his mind. "Ed… will they be enough?"

Ed looked at the sleeping form of Beregond. The Gondorian was too far gone in his strange slumber to notice the commotion in his room.

"They have to be."

To Ed's relief and gratitude, the Colonel and Major Armstrong were willing to give up their watches for Beregond's sake. So, it didn't take long for Ed and Al to get their hands on about a dozen red stones that sparkled brightly under the light, waiting to be used. Now it was only a matter to go through with their plan and hope that everything would actually work out on their favour.

The boys exchanged a glance, and then Al closed the door quietly. What they were about to do didn't require an audience, and their friends had already wished them good luck. Meanwhile, Ed placed the stones on the Gondorian's chest, making sure that they formed a transmutation circle, and then gripped one of Beregond's hands tightly.

"Ready, Al?"

Al walked up to Beregond's side and clasped the man's other hand. "As ready as I can ever be, Brother."

Ed nodded his understanding. "Then let's go for it."

"Brother?"

Ed looked up, perplexed. "Yeah, Al?"

"If it doesn't work…"

"It will work, Al," Ed replied with absolution.

"But if it doesn't," Al insisted, "It won't matter. You got that?"

Ed understood. After their failed human transmutation, the older brother had spent five years of his life wondering if Al blamed him all along. Now, however, Al made it perfectly clear that he didn't intend on blaming Ed, nor would he ever. They were in this together.

"Okay," he said. He took a deep breath before looking at his brother. "On the count of three?"

Al nodded his agreement, and waited patiently for Ed to count. As soon as the word 'three' flowed out of the older brother's lips, both boys closed their eyes and concentrated. They saw in their mind's eye the Gate once more, towering over them, yet they stared at it unafraid. For the words they had read in Scieszka's copy still rang in their ears.

_Take a sword in your hand, then seek the entrance, for narrow is the opening._

The boys waited, knowing that the snake-like hands would come for them. But this time, they would be prepared.

_A dragon lies at the entrance, guarding the temple. Lay hold upon him; immolate him; strip him of his skin, and taking his flesh with his bones, separate the limbs__. _

Ed was the first to react, holding up his hands, which they seemed to glow as alchemic power accumulated in his fingertips. And when Al joined him, the serpent-like limbs came to a stop, subdued.

_T__hen laying the limbs together with the bones at the entrance of the temple make a step of them, mount thereon, and enter, and you will find what you seek – the priest, that bronzen man who can become the silver man; and, if you will, you will soon have the golden man._

The two brothers smiled at each other and walked inside the Gate, ready to master its secrets.

"How long has it been?" Roy asked, regarding Riza curiously. Both of them were sitting in the corridor outside of Beregond's room, waiting for any kind of news about the transmutation the boys had planned. However, the silence that reigned in those moments had started growing too heavy for the Flame Alchemist.

Riza looked at her watch. "Ten minutes, Sir." She frowned a bit and regarded the man curiously. "Do transmutations take that long?"

"No," Roy replied, standing up. He leaned close to the door, pricking up his ears in the hopes of hearing any kind of sound that would assure him that everything was fine, but there was nothing. Steeling himself, Roy turned the knob and dared a peek inside.

There was no light of an alchemical reaction, so he beckoned Riza to follow him. The moment they entered, however, they were shocked to see the boys on their knees, trembling violently.

"Damn it," Roy exclaimed. He signaled to Riza to go to Al's side, while he rushed to Ed. "Fullmetal, you okay?"

Ed didn't answer. He just lifted a trembling hand and pointed upwards, in Beregond's direction. Not really understanding at first, Roy looked up as well, only to see a pair of familiar green-hazel eyes looking back at him, a flash of recognition reflected through them.

Roy smiled, finally understanding.


	20. Epilogue

_1st May, 1916_

_Dear Winry,_

_Today I got the best news of my life. Vato has asked me to officially become his girlfriend. You should have seen him trying to mumble out the words while I was trying to figure out what he wanted to say. I even thought for a moment that he meant to break up with me and I was this close to bursting into tears. Thankfully, he finally sorted everything out before things got too much out of hands; that would have been embarrassing._

_Needless to say that the first one who heard the news was Brigadier General Hughes. And, of course, he was the first one to declare that Elysia should be the flower girl to our wedding. I didn't have the heart to tell him that, if it took Vato and I over a year to finally become an item, he shouldn't be expecting any more weddings soon. Sarah and Mr. Havoc's was enough, for the moment._

_Then again, maybe that wouldn't have stopped Mr. Hughes. You know how obsessed he's become with getting General Mustang and Riza married, no matter how many times the general threatens to roast him alive._

_You should come over to Central some time. You won't believe the changes that they have done around here. The place seems a lot friendlier somehow, less stiff and formal. Democracy seems to have finally settled for good, just like General Mustang had wanted. More importantly, you can feel you're surrounded by good people in Headquarters. I even keep in touch with 1__st__ Lieutenant Breda and 2__nd__ Lieutenant Fuery, even though their jobs can be a handful, as both of them like to say._

_Well, that's it for now from this part of the world. How are things in Resembool? More importantly, how are things between you and Al? Has he finally moved in with you?_

_Keep in touch, _

_Scieszka._

* * *

_5th May, 1916_

_Dear Scieszka,_

_I was so glad to hear from you after all this time, even more so when I read that things with you and Vato are finally official. Congratulations, he's a good man. I'm sure he'll make you happy._

_Life in Resembool is – and always will be, I guess – quiet. Of course, there was a lot of buzz when it got around that Al and I were together, and that he even moved in with me (so, yes, things with Al have been going really well). That buzz died down soon, however, when they saw the man who accompanied Ed and Al. Some of the elders insisted__that they had seen Beregond's face somewhere before, but Ed was pretty quick to say that he was an uncle they had come across during their travels. I guess it's not all that far away from the truth, is it? It even saved them the trouble from having to answer too many questions. As Ed reasoned, the less people know about Beregond, the better. _

_At times like these, I want to tease both Ed and Al and say that they're acting like overprotective parents. I can't say I blame them, though; they've grown really attached to him. And, of course, Beregond loves them back, still helping them every step of the way. He's even helped them rebuild their old house, and he's been sharing the place with Ed since then. Somehow, I don't think Ed would want it any other way. After wandering for so long, they've finally found the measure of peace they've been looking for. That's what Beregond says anyway; I was never as good at words as he is. And to think that Amestrian isn't his first language!_

_Tell the others I said 'Hi", and I promise I'll visit Central at the first chance. I want to check out the new automail trends, after all! _

_Till next time,_

_Winry_

* * *

_10th May, 1916_

_When Ed came this morning and said that he wanted to talk to me in private, I have to admit that I was worried at first, I thought something was wrong with Beregond. I guess it's a bit paranoid of me after all this time, but I can't help it. We don't know what he gave up so we could get our bodies and, though he seems fine, I still wait for the time that his sacrifice is going to catch up with him._

_I guess Beregond must realise it, too. Ever since he came out of the coma, he's been keeping himself busy, corresponding with Professor Syndow and telling him stories of Middle-earth. I suspect it was something that he owed to his people – to never be forgotten. Because then they'll never be really gone. They will just live on forever as myths and legends._

_For the time being though, _this _story has finally reached its end. That's what Ed declared as he handed me his journal, insisting that I should be the one to write its epilogue. As far as he is concerned, he is done with that chapter of his life. I can't agree more to that. _

_It's intriguing how Ed started this journal. 'Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is Alchemy's first Law of Equivalent Exchange.' That quote guided us throughout our lives, for we believed it was the world's one, and only, truth. The truth is, though, that the world isn't perfect and the law is incomplete. Equivalent Exchange doesn't encompass everything that goes on here. __But I still choose to believe in its principle: that all things do come at a price. That there's an ebb and a flow, a cycle. That the pain we went through did have a reward and that anyone who's determined and perseveres will get something of value in return, even if it's not what they expected. I don't think of Equivalent Exchange as a law of the world anymore. I think of it as a promise between my brother, myself and Beregond - a promise that we'll stay together, no matter what._

* * *

Ed still sat on the stairs of the porch, his gaze locked on the stars high above. It was a quiet and warm night for this time of year, so he could stay outside without having to wear his overcoat. He didn't feel like getting up and retrieving it from his room anyway; it seemed too much of a bother.

"Ed?" Beregond's voice sounded from behind him, along with the familiar footsteps coming closer. "Something wrong?"

Ed faced Beregond. The man was dressed quite lightly, the top buttons of his shirt open and a pair of bracers holding his trousers. His posture was quite relaxed too, but his eyes reflected his mild concern.

"Should there be anything wrong?" Ed asked, puzzled.

"You tell me," the Gondorian answered, raising an eyebrow. "I've called you three times before I decided to start looking for you."

"Oh," Ed said. He scratched his head in an embarrassed manner. "Sorry."

"That's fine," Beregond said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just let me know when you decide to daydream about… Sophie, was it?"

"Gah, let it go, will you?" Ed exclaimed. "I only met her a couple of times."

"True," Beregond said but, at the next moment, he sat next to Ed, regarding him teasingly from the corner of his eye. "I bet you want to meet her again, though."

"Shut up," Ed said, cuffing Beregond's arm in playful warning. "You know I hate it when you're right."

"My apologies, I'll try to be wrong next time," the Gondorian said, rubbing his arm. Nevertheless, he nudged the young man. "Joke aside, I'm really happy for you."

"Nothing happened yet, so hold your horses," Ed pointed out before lifting his gaze back to the sky above. "The stars are really bright tonight."

The Gondorian looked up as well, and a small sigh flowed out of his lips. "Yeah," he said, and he pointed to a cluster of seven stars. "There's Menelvagor."

"And there's the Sickle of the Valar," Ed said, pointing to another cluster. He smirked a bit when Beregond looked at him in surprise. "I remember."

"So I see," Beregond said softly. "Maybe I should teach you more about the constellations."

"Yeah, why not?" Ed said with a shrug. "If you won't let me teach alchemy again, we might as well occupy ourselves otherwise." He paused for a moment, hesitating, but he finally faced Beregond. "I could teach you again, you know. Why don't you let me?"

Beregond smiled and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder in a gesture of companionship. "Ed, there's no point. I know how the world works now; you and Al have your bodies back; and we're no longer in danger."

"The people will always need a good alchemist at their side," Ed argued.

"And I know two of their best. They're more than enough," Beregond answered with a smile. He patted Ed just once, and he got back on his feet. "Now come on, I cooked us some dinner."

Ed nodded his understanding. Even so, there was something that he still wanted to ask. He never said anything before, making one excuse after the other. Now though, he couldn't make any more excuses. He'd just go for it.

"Beregond?"

"Hmm?" the man asked, stopping in his tracks.

"You never… I mean…" Ed pursed his lips. "What did you give up?"

Beregond frowned. "What?"

Ed tried again. "When you went to the Gate to get our bodies back… you had nothing to sacrifice but a part of you. So what was it?"

Beregond caught on at last and, strangely enough, he smiled. "Something of which I had plenty."

He didn't say much else. He started going up the stairs, only to stop again and hum in a musing tone.

"It's going to rain."

"Really?" Ed asked, amused. "You smelled it?"

"Not this time," Beregond answered, chuckling. "My knee joints hurt."

Now that had Ed quite puzzled. "Your knee joints never hurt before."

Beregond nodded in agreement. "I must be getting old."

With that, he walked inside, while Ed followed suit, not picking up the fact what Beregond had just answered his question.

Who needed to actually live two hundred years anyway?

**THE END**


End file.
